Submersion
by animeluver2112
Summary: All her life, she kept to herself; did what was asked of her, maintained a safe, peaceful normalcy to not worry those around her. How, in that quietness, had she never noticed she was drowning?
1. Chapter One

Er, hi.

I haven't really written anything (that I've been brave enough to publish) in years now. I'm hoping that, by taking the initiative to post, I might keep up with the process. Also, I couldn't find many Aizawa-OC-based stories. Of course, this could be about All Might. Who knows?

I would probably cry over feedback, to know anyone has any sort of interest in this. A hornet of a thought kept buzzing around my brain and landed in this document, so I present to you a little harebrained idea, featuring the characters of My Hero Academia (which I certainly don't own), and my own curious little creation. I hope you enjoy!

Also, don't run away just because your favorite person doesn't show up in the first chapter! If everyone met everyone on day one, it'd be kind of boring, don't you think? I promise it'll be worth your time- well, as much as any author can promise their work is worth something...Ha.

* * *

Her skin was melting.

 _Drip, drip, dripping_ from her pores, skin following the current of fluids in their desperate escape. The thrum of a frantic heart pumped everything out- organs drying, bones shriveling as brittle as candy cigarettes. One breath more and there'd be nothing left but a cool, girl-shaped watermark on the sheets.

Her body swelled with that dreaded inhale, her whole wavered, and-

I suddenly woke with a thrash, choking on the silvery saliva that had been steadily flowing from the corner of my mouth all night, no doubt. My eyes felt crusty with sleep and I groaned, itching away the flakes in my gross, oddly satisfying morning ritual.

 _Another day, another nightmare._

An impatient meow was indignant through my bedroom door. I threw a tired glance over before closing my eyes. _If I could just get five more minutes-_

 **" _I wish I had chosen a different setting, a different relation-"_**

"-llo?" I grumbled, cutting the too-loud-too-early ringtone of my cell phone, eyes still glued shut. Maybe if I just concentrated hard enough, I could fall asleep sitting up, right here. It wouldn't be the first time I'd fallen asleep in an odd position- last time certainly couldn't have been the last. Before I could attempt my experiment a crystalline voice broke through, destroying all the sweet dreams I could've possessed.

"Chi-chan! Sleeping in again, just like I expected."

"Mom," I groaned. Was this my only method of speaking today? This early, maybe it was. "I'm up, I'm nearly alert-"

"You've already forgotten what today is, haven't you?" Came her impatient interruption. An eye slowly opened.

"Ehhh?"

"Chi-chan," Her voice was calm; never a good sign. "Today is your interview at UA."

A screech from the other room alerted that I'd exploded Nasu's water bowl in my sudden rage of emotion. I blinked, feeling how wide my eyes had become, but was still apparently a little too dumbstruck to cover my total scattered-brainness with a response. A sigh reverberated in my ear. My mouth felt gummy and I tried to swallow my embarrassment and panic.

"Please tell me you at least had your interview skirt and blazer dry cleaned."

"Mmm? Mmm hmm," I hummed, staring at the crumpled mess of the outfit in question lying dejectedly in a chair nearby. I scrambled up, suddenly very _not_ tranquil and staggered around in an awkward, idiotic circle, unsure where to start. Mom sighed again.

"Go start the coffee maker first, then take a shower. Hang the outfit that's on the floor on a _hanger_ , and bring it with you into the bathroom; the steam from the shower will undo some of the damage,"

"Yes ma'am," I squeaked. This woman. How had an idiot such as myself get blessed with such a tactful, wonderful mother? I scooped up my most presentable clothes and flew through the door. Nasu let out a huffy cat breath and I took a moment to reach down and scratch under his chin.

"The interview is scheduled for eleven, so you have a little breathing space. As soon as you're out of the shower, start on that mess of hair you so refuse to cut and Chiyo, honey, it wouldn't kill you to wear some make-up-"

"Should I take a train or drive, do you think? Traffic isn't usually too bad by then, since the morning rush is over," Shit, was it one cup of water per scoop of coffee, or two scoops for four cups? Wouldn't that be one scoop per two cups then?

"I don't know what the parking is like there, but I know there's no direct train to the school. You'd have to walk a ways, and I know how stressed you get before these sort of things, so I'd say drive,"

One scoop seemed fine; nothing was blowing up yet, anyway. I slung my nightshirt over my head and onto the spill from earlier, heading towards the shower. Nasu gave another mewl and I pivoted, assessing his food bowl was still teeming before hurrying on.

"Alright, I'm on track then. Thanks for being on top of things, okaa-chan. I'm sorry you got stuck with such an airhead of a kid,"

"Oh!" She tutted, flustered. I smiled despite myself. She was business and clarity and grace combined, but so undone by the slightest of teasing or silly talk. "It's my job. Don't say such things about yourself; after all, not even Akari-san's children have done anything _nearly_ as impressive as getting an interview at one of the most prestigious schools of the country," She was full to the brim with pride. I felt my stomach plummet in trepidation.

 _Nothing to take the nerves off like an unknowingly pressuring mother._

"Eheheh, right. Well, I'm going to jump into a lake-er, the shower," Christ, why was I such an idiot? "I'll talk to you later, mom."

"Call me right after! I'm so proud of you, Chiyo,"

That starry-eyed love again. Could my stomach actually fall out of my body? I rested my forehead against the wall, already damp from the shower's steam. "Thanks, mom. I love you. Call you later."

Few things felt as wonderful as hot water on clammy skin and I soaked in the moment, back against the wall.

Today was my interview at UA High School for a teaching position in ethical studies; a new position created to assure that all students, hero-hopefuls and gen eds alike, knew the reasoning behind _not_ beating "villains" to a bloody pulp at every turn, what leads one to violence, and the psychology behind both crime and heroism.

A new position. My first interview. My first potential teaching post.

I shivered and glanced around. My gaze traveled up.

The warm, tantalizing droplets were stuck in place; neither raining down on me nor climbing back through the spigot.

I blinked and the shower resumed right along with my dancing nerves.

 _Probably should get that under control before heading out to a school of quirks._


	2. Chapter Two

Hello again.

Another quick post and shorter chapter; I just couldn't wait (They won't all be this short, I promise). I'm considering using a third person point of view when giving Aizawa and All Might's perspectives, since the only mind I know inside and out is Chiyo's. Let me know what you think! The majority of the reviews I've received (Seriously amazing. I nearly cried. I cannot believe people are interested in my toe-rag thoughts) are appearing on my screen as gibberish letters. I have no idea what's up with that. Regardless, I am pleased and abundantly grateful.

On with the ramblings- Er, story!

* * *

There were few things more nauseating than interviews.

Mornings, perhaps. Meetings, one could suppose.

Shota Aizawa let out a quiet sigh and settled into the uncomfortable conference room chair, wishing too late he'd feigned sickness or even a class to get out of this tedious process.

"Cheer up, Shota. At least the setting is quieter than the classroom," Ever the optimist, even in the skeletal form he reverted to outside the view of applicants. The rugged pro-hero Eraserhead gave no comment in response. Toshinori Yagi, known to the world as All Might, gave a small chuckle, scratching at his golden mane. "Though I must admit, the string of potential teachers has even me stretched a little thin."

There had been at least three hundred applicants; a list Principal Nezu had whittled down to ten.

The first few were high on the righteous indignation of heroism as a whole (of course, what would you expect from a bunch of liberal arts majors applying for a job designed to show the ethical issues of the field), one of which having left with a foamy dollop of spittle on the corner of his lip. Aizawa grimaced at the memory.

The sixth, a spritely, energetic man, clearly had an alternative motive of perhaps picking up a few tips to become a hero himself, as nearly all of his questions were directed to All Might and his experience outside of the classroom.

The seventh, a middle-aged woman with a fire quirk that scorched the chair, had been so dumbfounded by All Might's presence that she had uttered maybe one full sentence the entire 30-minute interview.

Candidate number eight had a relatively unbiased opinion on heroism, all things considered, and a crisp manner; perfect for teaching. He hadn't even flinched when shaking each pros' hand, keeping direct eye contact with each and every one of them.

Aizawa had a rising suspicion that he was either clairvoyant or telepathic, judging by his attitude of solemn affirmation. Certainly, he was the first candidate the unanimous vote was leaning towards. Hands stitching together behind his head, Aizawa stretched. This thing was practically in the final lap- they'd breeze through the last two interviews and he'd be off to prep hour, where a sweet, sweet sleeping bag was calling his name.

"Right, well, that went rather well, I'd say," Principal Nezu commented, straightening the thick pile of resumes before him. "Next up is Chiyo Tsutomi-"

A rush of noise filtered through the door, moving quickly up the hallway. Aizawa rose, instantly alert. _An attack? Right here inside the academy?_

The door exploded and every pro hero stood in defensive stances, ready for impact.

A startled, wide-eyed woman stood before them.

Surrounded by a quarter of Class 1-A.


	3. Chapter Three

Hello, kiddies.

A longer chapter! Hurrah! I enjoyed writing about characters I've grown to love so much, and hope I've done them justice. This is just a taste, of course; Chiyo's perceptions are pretty thin considering the time frame she's in (or rather, forgotten about). Thank you to the follows, favorites, and reviews!

* * *

 _Can't tell if they're impressed or if I should just leave because I've already blown it._

Five sets of shocked eyes bore holes through my skull, and my body shriveled under their gazes like a raisin. I recognized most of them from various television interviews and magazine articles; especially the larger-than-life, golden-haired Symbol of Peace himself, All Might. Currently he stood like a giant beacon of doom, ready to smash any threat into little bite-size pieces of dust.

That current threat happened to be me.

"Miss Tsutomi, reporting for her interview approximately at eleven-hundred hours!" The boy with glasses- the class rep, Iida- shouted in an authoritative manner. The green-haired boy and gravity girl nodded determinedly on either side of us and I realized Iida still had hold of my biceps. Had he really used a mobile quirk to get us here so quickly? I cleared my throat, raising a particularly pale hand in greeting.

"Hello there, I am Chiyo Tsutomi. I believe I have an interview scheduled?"

* * *

 _Twenty minutes earlier_

The parking lot was already reverberating with heat from the asphalt, infusing the odor of freshly-mown grass with the asinine scent of new tar. My pores felt exposed as I unscrewed the cap of my third water bottle, downing half its contents in one go. My outfit looked pretty great for having been equitable to a prune just hours before, and I'd placated the thick hair trailing down my back with a heavy-duty straightener and some bobby pins. The skirt was a tad snug which I tallied to water weight (like I always did) and I journeyed on towards the ominous security checkpoint I already knew would be a pain.

UA had a prestigious reputation, certainly, but was not unknown to enemies and rejects from the program as well. The security was a necessity in the face of villainy and dejected parents alike. The biggest issue I'd face during student-teaching was a screaming, fist shaking parent who didn't believe little Skipping Suzuki deserved to fail based on her absences.

When you miss over sixty days of a semester to hang out at the arcade, though, that tends to happen.

A visitor badge was pinned to the front of my blazer to assure every passerby could recognize my un-belonging presence. I considered pulling my hair over the laminated tag but couldn't justify my reasoning for doing such a thing. I paused, a little curious over the matter, taking in the scenery around me.

The grounds were expansive; especially considering the school's in-city location. Trees lined the sidewalks, the grass well-manicured, and flowers bloomed on every corner, as if the lawn maintenance all possessed horticultural quirks. _Wait,_ could _they?_

The air smelled better here. Fresher. I inhaled with new lungs and for the first time felt a little less nervous and more or less hopeful.

I'd applied for this job on a whim. The inquiry was easy enough to bullshit, and it was relatively close to my residence. I'd been banking on my loan grace period for too long, and knew I'd need some sort of revenue better than a local block's video store to pay the bills after too long. It was time to put that once-so-coveted teaching licensure to good use.

Sure, I'd shied away from the whole hero scene pretty much my entire life, but maybe it was time for a new perspective.

"DAMN IT MINETA, GET BACK HERE _. YOU. ARE._ _ **DEAD.**_ "

Then again, maybe it was for the best if I'd just stayed and became manager of the video store instead of dabbling into a school like this.

A panicked, crying child with purple bubbles for hair was flailing wildly and streaking along in my direction, a glimmering piece of cloth in one of his small fists. A feral teenager was charging, hot on his heels with a mouth full of rage and eyes of pure loathing. I felt the blood streaming out of the small boy's nose before actually seeing it. Alarm sprang through my chest. _Was he attacked by the larger student?_

The wildling suddenly lunged, hand extended.

" _ **DIE**_."

It seemed more of a command than anything. I snatched the small boy out of the way on reflex but missed his skin, instead tossing him aside by the weird object he'd been clinging to, my other hand interlocking between the aggressor's own fingers. Something was leaking out of him and without thinking I repelled the liquid back into his hand. A small popping resulted and the boy yelped, falling to his knees in a writhe. I held tight to his hand, caught between intrigue in what must be his quirk and what I assumed I should feel, such as scorn for student-on-student violence. _Did he seep some sort of explosive material? Gasoline, perhaps? But how would it ignite?_

"Using your quirk outside of training is a serious violation," I commented with little malice. I was still interested in his quirk and didn't want to scare him out of telling me about it, even if I did have to play bad cop. "Especially if used against a defenseless child."

The blonde boy snorted. " _Child_? Take a look at what's in your hand, lady, and try and tell me again that little mongrel is a _child_ ,"

I was suddenly aware of the continuous tugging my right hand had been experiencing all the while. That child, whom I now noticed was wearing a UA uniform, had been furtively trying to tug free the item in question from my grip ever since the danger had subsided. He let go, paling, when I set my gaze on him.

They were made of cream silk and lace, wrinkled from an excessively tight grip and just slightly damp from the boy's sweaty palms.

Panties.

"Ehhhhh?!"

I could've heard a pin drop from seventy miles away, the purple-balled boy was so still. I squinted.

"What," I muttered, noticing a group of students moving quickly towards us. A red-faced girl darkened to a deep plum upon seeing what was clutched in my hand. "What kind of school _is_ this?"

"Sick little bastard," Blondie spat, though already his breath was slowing. I looked between the two, baffled.

I never attended UA, sure, but these were antics of a school with much less prestige.

 _These...These kids are going to be tomorrow's heroes?_

"Minoru Mineta! You are in multiple violations of school code and public decency! You dare call yourself a student of the most noble hero program in the country, and yet have stooped so low as to become a _panty thief_ -"

"It's not like she was wearing them!" The small one shouted. My brain couldn't even process the situation evolving in front of me. The purple balls of his head bounced with his every move as he angrily defended himself. "They fell out of her bag, what was I _supposed_ to do?!"

"You are seriously the worst, Minoru," It was the blushing girl speaking this time. Simple deduction told me these were probably _hers_. I quickly lowered my hand and gaze on the perpetrator, face blank.

"You're telling me _you_ are part of the hero program and stole a pair of underwear from your own classmate? Not even a rival class's, or something?"

"Not really the point I'd be trying to make," Blondie muttered. He'd risen to a sitting position, pacified and sullen. Apparently this was a shock to everyone, as the interest fell from the pervert- Minoru Mineta- to us.

"Whoa, Bakugo! You're actually sitting still!" The class wandered closer, scrutinizing. The young brunette leaned over, glimmering with curiosity "I don't think I've ever seen you so calm before!"

"Yeah so what," He- Bakugo?- spit out in a tired voice. I allowed the smallest of smirks. Unbeknownst to him, my quirk was at work regulating and keeping him calm.

Kind of hard to throw a tantrum when your heart isn't pumping above 70 beats a minute.

The girl looked at our conjoined hands. She then stage whispered to the others; "I think she's the one controlling him,"

"No one controls me! I-" Bakugo fell forward with a sigh. "Just forget it."

"Oh, hey! Who are you?"

The green-haired boy was the first to really take notice that I was actually an unknown person in this equation. His smile was easy and friendly; would he be my favorite student if I took this job? At least he didn't show any perverse tendencies... yet.

I released the calmed Bakugo and turned my attention to the group, giving a small, polite bow.

"Chiyo Tsutomi."

"Pleased to meet you! I'm Izuku Midoriya, but you'll hear people call me Deku. That's Uraraka-" The panty victim, then. "-and this is Tenya Iida, he's our class rep," At his introduction the bespectacled boy offered his hand promptly. I'd barely reached out when his firm grip took my hand and violently shook it. _Lively bunch, aren't we?_

Deku's eyes wavered on Bakugo, hesitant. "You've already met Kacchan, or Katsuki Bakugo, and Minoru Mineta."

"Ah, yes. Bubble boy," I fixed my gaze on him once more. The little troll was caught between fear and stubborn valiance from his lingerie endeavor. A slow, warm smiled wrapped around my features and a glimmer of hope sparked his eyes.

"Mineta?" I asked.

"Er, yeah?"

My head tilted just slightly, smile still pristine. "If you ever attempt a stunt like this again, I'll drown you."

I could practically see his butt pucker.

"Here, sorry about all this," I turned to the single girl of the group, arm extended with the underwear as a sort of peace offering. Quick as a light she took and stashed them away, a hint of her blush returning. And, I noted, a creeping pink across Deku and Bakugo's faces as well. _What's that about, I wonder?_

"So, er, Ms. Tsutomi, what are you here for?"

"Hm?" Four sets of eyes inquired after me and my mind drew a blank, momentarily forgetting my purpose. A creaking skittered across the grounds and we turned in unison, watching as the nearby clock tower's slender hand shifted to the twelve.

"Eleven o'clock," I mused. An itch tickled my scalp. "Why is that ringing a bell?"

"Er, because that's what clocks do?" Uraraka questioned.

"I guess I never thought about why it's specifically a _bell_ ," Iida mused.

"Oh," I slapped my cheek and reality slapped me right back. "Oh, oh no. I have an interview, I _had_ an interview, starting at eleven," The clock struck my fate down like a fallen heroine, destined for loserdom. Did I just go home? Who would ever hire someone who couldn't do something so simple as to even show up on time? _Mom is going to_ kill _me._

"Which building?!" Iida's glasses gleamed with his demanding question. I blinked.

"Building 2B, second floor. There's no way I can make it-"

Deku was rubbing his chin, suddenly alienated in his own miasma of mutterings.

"That's less than a quarter mile away. If we used Iida's speed coupled with Uraraka's gravity control- we could both hold on to her and Iida to maintain the balance. Even then, we may not be fast enough, of course with a blast from Kacchan we could clear the outside distance in an instant…"

"Is...he okay?" I asked, hesitant to interrupt the one-sided conversation.

Uraraka nodded, looking apologetic.

"He does this kind of thing all the time,"

"It could work," Deku said, loud enough for us to hear. He hammered a fist into the palm of his hand, looking determined. "We have only seconds, but I believe if we work together, we can get you to that interview."

A thundering erupted in my chest, hope swelling like the tide. The students shared a glance, nodded in unison.

"I caught the majority of your muttered plan, Midoriya, and I concur! If we all hold on to Miss Tsutomi, we should be able to deliver her to her destination," Iida agreed, already on the move. Hands grasped my biceps from behind and I tensed, suddenly unsure.

"Wait, what's going on here? I don't even know what your quirk _is_ , this doesn't seem very safe-"

"Uraraka!" Iida commanded over my protests. A tight grip strangled my left arm and a lighter one to the right, Midoriya's face a mix of apology and determination.

"This will work, please trust us,"

My head shook, panic rising. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you're great students, but I-"

"Bakugo!" This kid was seriously something else with the interruptions. If, by the grace of all things holy, I did make it to this interview and incredibly landed the job, Iida and I would be having a nice heart to heart chat very quickly. "Are you in?"

From psychopathic raging to mollified, Bakugo now wore an unreadable expression of annoyance and boredom. I presumed this was probably his natural face.

Very surprisingly, a smirk pulled a corner of his mouth up, turning his face into a new mixture of pleased malice. He stood, dusting his pants off.

"I guess she did threaten that pervert-bastard, and I hate owing people one," Came his cool remark, standing alongside Iida.

 _Owing people one?_ I thought, panic quelled for a moment at the thought of having stopped a panty-snatching little perv as Bakugo _owing me one_.

Speaking of which, bubble-boy still hadn't moved, frozen in place since my little threat. I wondered for a moment if I'd went too far. Then I recalled he'd snatched a pair of panties from a _classmate._ I immediately felt less ashamed.

The clock struck its final note, and four students braced themselves against me. I felt their blood rushing through their bodies and my stomach curdled, the milk and oatmeal I'd had for breakfast threatening to spew out of their original entry point.

"Ready?" Deku asked.

"On my mark," Iida directed.

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" Bakugo roared. " _NOW_!"

 _So,_ I thought, perhaps for the last time.

 _So this is how I die, at the teenaged hands of hopeful heroes._


	4. Chapter Four

We all know that certain person who just annoys the shit out of us for no good reason.

Aizawa might have found that person.

:-)

* * *

The air was tense; first with wariness, then confusion.

Two students were wide-eyed and nervous, one panting but determined, the last smirking.

 _What benefit did being on the hiring council hold if I am still forced to see my students._

"Am I...Too late?" Her voice was soft and calm, much like her unalarmed face. Surprising, considering the situation. By the arrangement of students and quirks, it didn't take a rocket scientist to imagine how she got here and at what pace. Aizawa's stance relaxed. This was no threat; just an unforeseen team effort to transport a woman with poor time management skills to an appointment. _A terrible quality in a teacher._

"This doesn't count as heroism or community service," He informed dryly. The other pro heroes unfroze, broken from their trance-like state by Aizawa's sarcastic call, some following his lead and quickly settling back into their seats. Before any of them could speak the students erupted all at once, as sudden and brazen as a chain of volcanoes.

"Please excuse Miss Tsutomi, it wasn't her fault-"

"She would've been on time, only-"

"That piece of shit Mineta ran off after some of his perv bullshit antics-"

" _Bakugo,_ we are in the presence of _professionals_ -"

"Miss Tsutomi stopped him _and_ Bakugo with one hand!"

The woman was clearly overwhelmed by the protection of her new fan group, unable to produce a response or silence their excuses as she raised her hands in a feeble attempt of pacification. A sudden pain stitched across Aizawa's temple at the noise. If she couldn't handle barely a quarter of the class, the noise would surely reach even his room with the full class present. He sighed. _Why can I never find a moment's peace and quiet in my life?_

All Might stood and Aizawa noted he had utilized his lightening-quick transformation back into the great, girthy symbol of peace he was known as upon the supposed "threat". The students were silenced by his sudden, more-obvious presence.

"Did you say she stopped Bakugo single-handedly?"

All attention turned to the woman in question. Her features reddened.

"I see," Principal Nezu murmured. The file before him contained a picture of the same slender woman, the only difference being the hair style. Upon closer examination Aizawa noticed she was even wearing the same outfit. _Is this her only professional attire?_

"Students, thank you for escorting Miss Tsutomi to this interview. You are free to go now."

"But-"

This time the woman did silence the disruptive teenagers, turning their direction with a small smile. Like her other expression it was placid, radiating a calm that proved infectious. It was highly irritating.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me. I can take it from here."

The mitigation of energy was impressive, Aizawa thought grudgingly. The most energetic of Class 1-A gave no quarrel with their dismissal and slightly bowed, both to the woman as well as the room. Uraraka was the last to trail out of the room with one final glance and a small wave. The woman's lips rose just a fraction more, fingers wiggling by her side in a minimal though apparent response. With a fluid pivot her attention returned to us, head bowed low.

"Please excuse my tardiness; I am, again, Chiyo Tsutomi, and am honored to be here."

"So honored you had to stop and chat up some students before deciding to show up?" Aizawa muttered, mostly to himself. Interviewee number nine caught him in her sight and the professional suddenly felt exposed. She looked like some sort of wise fawn, watching him with curiosity and mild disdain.

"Excuse him, he's just a cranky bitch when it gets around his naptime," Leave it to Present Mic to throw him under the bus...and reveal one of his secrets. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you,"

"Miss Tsutomi, what did the students mean when they said you stopped young Bakugo with one hand?" All Might asked, interested. Tsutomi shifted in her seat, ramrod straight, head held in a manner that seemed practiced. She cleared her throat before speaking.

"He had lunged for a student- Mineta?- so I reached out and stopped him. It seemed like he was going to use some sort of explosive. I imagine this is against school policy, of course."

"Is that why you stopped him?" Aizawa interrupted. Again she turned to him. He had the distinct urge to pull up his "scarf" higher as protection. _What's with this woman?_

"I stopped him because I had never encountered someone producing a liquid out of the palm of their hand, and I was curious," She paused, staggered just enough for someone as acute as Aizawa to notice. "And he was using an uncanny amount of force against a peer with no apparent justification."

"Ah, your quirk! It's written down as _submersion_. Would you care to elaborate?" Principal Nezu asked kindly. Again Tsutomi shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"I can... _manage_ water. With Bakugo, I focused on the water in his blood, as its 92% aqueous, and regulated the flow in order to calm him down."

"You said _manage_ ; what does that mean?" Kayama, better known as Midnight, inquired. Aizawa wondered if the interviewee was put off by the only other woman in the room wearing such a ridiculous, scanty outfit. In comparison to Midnight, Tsutomi practically looked like a nun.

She was composed of quiet movements and flickers; like a flame in a lantern. Controlled. Constant. It was clear this wasn't the questioning she'd expected or prepared for, but under some sort of conditioning she maintained an air of serenity.

God, this woman was _infuriating_.

" _Control_ sounds like a pretty powerful, almost villainous word, when put into the context of how I could potentially use it with my quirk. I have nor ever intend to _control_ anyone, and prefer phrases more synonymous to 'manage' or 'direct.'"

"Isn't that what teaching is all about, though?"

* * *

 _What is this asshole's problem?_

Of all the pro heroes, of all the people in the room to ask me questions, why did it have to be _this guy_ , and what had I done to piss him off so badly? What kind of fucking interview was this, even? I expected questions about my teaching methods and pedagogy, not the examination of my own quirk and wry word debates. Was this part of everyone's interview? My nerves were shot and it hadn't even been ten minutes.

I knew Midnight by the scandalous outfit and could identify All Might from a mile away. My right fingers suddenly twitched; I had a dark internal desire to touch those muscles, to feel and see for myself if they were as hard and impressive as they looked.

 _Now is so not the time, Chiyo. Focus._

Present Mic was the MC of the Sports Festival each year, so after his earlier quip and question I pegged the blonde, shade-wearing man as him. The mouse...thing, had to be the man I spoke to on the phone: Principal Nezu. He also had a table to himself, the two adjacent tables seating the four pros into a U-shaped bent around my chair.

 _So who's this other guy?_

Shaggy. Unkempt. Over it. His black hair hung in clumps over his shoulders and face- or what was visible, between his slump and strange, tape-like scarf. He wasn't glaring, exactly; I probably wasn't worth that extent of effort.

" _Teaching_ control, maybe. In my experience, the teachers and advisors who tried to control their students lacked the rudimentary skills of socializing and effective teaching," _Bam. Suck it, Mr. Nonchalant._ "I may be in control of the classroom, or a situation, but I, nor does anyone else, have true control over another human being. In a reputable sense, anyway,"

"I see," It was All Might who commented, mostly to himself. I fought the urge to beam as he rubbed his chiseled chin, seemingly chewing over my answer. Impressing the main man had to be worth some sort of points, right? _I should probably focus on the principal, as he's more than likely the deciding factor._

I looked pointedly at Principal Nezu and smiled, trying to ooze friendliness. Luckily, he returned the expression.

"Miss Tsutomi, could you tell me why you applied to our school?"

 _Money. To make mom proud. To assure her of my safety by surrounding myself around the best of the best. Because it's in close proximity to my apartment._

"I've always been interested in the development of hero and villain mentalities, as well as their differences. Empathy is a dying art which should, in my humble opinion, be passed on to the future generations of heroes in order to negate any sort of potential anarchy, overthrowal, or tyranny. At the same time, I enjoy being around children." _Jesus, why did I add that last part?_ I fought the urge to glance at Moody Mystery. Naturally, he didn't skip a beat.

"I'd hardly consider the students of UA children, Miss Tsutomi."

I could use this to my advantage. I fought off a smug look and instead implemented a polite, miniscule smile.

"Isn't that sort of the problem?"

I had piqued Principal Nezu's attention, I could tell. _You have them where you want them, Chiyo. Now bring it on home._ "In a world of increasing danger, so much responsibility and weight is put on our youth that they often lose themselves to the whims and mentalities of others. I want to be there to let them know it's okay to think for themselves, and to broaden their understandings of the world, morality, and ethics _past_ that of their predecessors." I couldn't help it; I looked at the shaggy-haired douchebag while saying that last part. A sighing scoff escaped him, much to my pleasure.

The questions following were milder in comparison. Mom and I had drilled over basic interview questions throughout my final year of schooling and the following summer to boot. Sure, I missed the first teachable semester of school due to lack of effort, but _now_ was my chance; if I didn't land a job, I'd be out on the street or moved back in with mom by the end of the month. A sheen of sweat cooled the back of my neck.

 _Please, if there's a god, do not let the grouchy cat-human be the deciding vote on my hiring._

"I think that about sums up the interview process, thank you, Miss Tsutomi. We'll get back to you with our decision within the week,"

My stomach churned like a vortex. Was that it? Did I even get on the radar, or was I so painfully obvious in my motives and inexperience that they endured the last hour talking to me through pity? Outwardly, I was sure I still looked as calm as ever. Would that be considered a positive, working at a school of such extremes? I'd thought so, but now wondered if I'd come off too passive and uninterested.

 _Please, please hire me. I am extremely interested in_ _ **not**_ _living on the street or with my mother in my mid-twenties._

"Thank you for your time," I bowed for the millionth time, sending another prayer to the heavens. "It was an honor to meet you and the prestigious, renowned teachers of this school."

"Heavens! We never even formally introduced ourselves, did we?" Principal Nezu looked appalled at himself. "The commotion over your...unexpected entrance caused a slip of the mind, I'm afraid. Please," He continued, standing. Like trained puppies the others stood as well. I stalked forward as the teachers moved towards the principal, forming a line.

All, of course, except the reluctant, scraggly-faced man, who had to be evicted from his chair before he'd move.

 _Do I...Do I shake it like a normal hand?_ The sweat was back with a vengeance as I stared at the large, white paw of the principal. I reached out and shook the plush joints gingerly. _Aren't animal paws really sensitive? Maybe it's like shaking a little kid's hand. I just won't apply any pressure._

Mission success. I moved down the row, sharing polite exchanges and little comments. I was still caught off guard by Present Mic's flirty comment about my "impressive vernacular" (I don't think he actually knew what that word meant) when a cool, slender hand slipped into mine, fingers long enough to curl around the side of my palm.

Two dark eyes, reddened around the edges, were slightly glaring down at me, the rest of his face passive. _Him._ I couldn't break eye contact; I couldn't afford to lose this battle. I fought off the shiver snaking up my spine and decided I could live with the twitch of my middle finger, snug inside his, as my only sign of discomfort.

"Shota Aizawa." He grunted. I smiled as politely as I could muster, given the circumstances. His hand slipped from mine as soon as it seemed socially acceptable and I let go of a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

If by some miracle I did land this job, I really hoped our rooms would be as far away as possible.

"All Might. It's an honor to meet you, sir," My voice sounded too awed and I mentally cursed my fangirling; I didn't even care about the whole "hero" thing, he was just so...manly.

 _So the exact opposite of Sulky Sally over there, basically._

"The pleasure is all mine, Chiyo!" _Holy Shit_ , _did the most famous man in the world just refer to me by my first name?_ His hand engulfed mine entirely, he was so massive. _Stay cool, stay cool._ "I'm still impressed you took to Class 1-A so quickly! And to handle someone like young Bakugo so calmly! Most impressive."

"Oh, no," I admonished. "I assure you, I was a bit ruffled on the inside over the whole situation." Those gleaming white teeth grinned at me and I smiled back, a little sheepish. He practically gushed confidence and geniality; it was no wonder so many people tried to imitate him. I bowed one final time, to both him and the room, before turning towards the door.

 _Please, please let them at least consider me._

"Chiyo?"

I turned at the sound of my voice. All Might looked on, suddenly serious.

"You stopped a quirk with your own at great risk; from you file, I see that you do not have a provisional hero license, meaning serious legal repercussions could have ensued your actions. And yet you still acted. Why?"

I was frozen.

I hadn't even _considered_ that. I so rarely used my quirk that it'd never been an issue in any circumstance. What had possessed me? _How could I be so stupid?_

"I...I don't know. I just- my body just...Moved." It was the weakest excuse in my life. The sound of my voice was small and childish like it always was when I was embarrassingly caught and humiliated. _I've ruined everything._

The room was as silent as I was. I looked up, horrified.

All Might was a statue of muscle and attention, menacing and awe-inspiring all at once. The principal, Present Mic, and Midnight were keenly focused, unmoving, and Aizawa, for the first time, looked mildly interested.

Like the waking sun, All Might grinned.

My stomach swirled like a tornado and all my well-trained serenity abandoned ship, relinquishing itself to the flood of nerves and emotion swelling around it.

And, like the child at heart that I was, I turned and walked calmly out the door.

And proceeded to run like the devil was chasing me all the way back to my car.


	5. Chapter Five

Hello! Late posting and rather short, but created with love and character building/depth/mystery! It's hard not just saying and writing everything about a story immediately; I'm a rather impatient Ingrid. I'll also be busy Tuesday, so the next chapter will either be up tomorrow or Wednesday!

* * *

I was sunk.

Washed up, farm bought, end of the line. Finished.

It had been four long, grueling days. Four days of no phone calls, no missed messages, no mail from UA High School. I stared, unblinking, at the television as it droned on, paralleling the monotony of my life.

It was only my first interview, but I'd felt so _certain_. I nailed those questions- even the ones from Captain Cranky- and All Might himself had smiled at me at the end. Sure, I bolted as soon as I was able, but it couldn't have reflected on me _that_ poorly...Could it?

"Life got you in a rut? Tired of the anxious thoughts swirling in your brain 24/7? Try _erasa-dent;_ the perfect solution for forgetting unwanted feelings, thoughts, or accidents! Nine out of ten physicians agree _erasa-dent_ -"

I flipped off the tv, nerves feeling scraped against sandpaper at the mention of anything _eraser_. After freaking out, pacing a trail into my carpet, and calling my mom as calmly as possible, I'd adventured onto the internet to find everything I could about Shota Aizawa.

Affiliation: Hero

Hero name: Eraserhead

Quirk: Erasure

 _The pro-hero known as Eraserhead can cancel out the quirk of anyone, so long as he doesn't blink._

 _That would explain the redness_ , I supposed, _but definitely not his shitty attitude._

Upon another extensive searching binge, I'd found only a small handful of pictures of the dark enigma, and most just displayed a blurry shadow-like figure. The clearest photo was taken by students, and I recognized some of the faces from the other day. I snapped shut my laptop, leaned back with a slow sigh.

Maybe it was best I didn't get the job; I'd have to work in close proximity to a bunch of high-strung professionals like him (and probably Midnight; I was still a little put off by her hiring attire), as well as quirk-wielding students; some of which who probably didn't have total control over their powers yet.

 _Like you're one to talk_.

My mind forcefully recalled the event of describing my interview to mom and her staggered, quiet reaction after letting slip that I'd used my quirk. I tried to bury that little detail in descriptions of the grounds and benefits the job would include. How she'd never have to worry again. It was close, but by the end the tension between her brows had eased, returning them to two smooth lines once more.

My eyes felt heavy, as if they'd personally been carrying all my week-long stress alone. Tentatively I placed my computer on the coffee table and snuggled up under the fuzzy snowman blanket I'd received for Christmas a few years back. The original near-silken texture had long faded to a soft, fluffy feeling, and I kept it out year round. Even after cramped school dorms and Nasu constantly perching on it, the blanket still smelled like home. I breathed in the pine-and-sugar smell, letting my consciousness fade.

The room was just starting to fill with water, tickling the tips of my fingers hanging over the cushions, when the melodic ringtone of my phone dispelled the illusion.

"Miss Tsutomi?"

"Yes?"

"This is Hatano Kiyohira, secretary of the UA's superintendent's office. I'm calling to inform you of the status of your application."

"Er, yes?"

"Miss Tsutomi, it would be our pleasure to offer you the full-time position as the Ethics and Social Sciences instructor at UA High School, effective immediately."

I couldn't help it; I screamed. A perturbed black cat watched as I jumped around my apartment like a maniac, practically goaded on by the chuckling man on the other end of the phone.

"I'll take your reaction as an acceptance. From here, we will start filing your information; you will need to get a professional background check done at a local office, and fingerprinted as well…"

I was hardly aware of all the complicated steps being fed to me. My heart was pounding and my grin felt permanently glued onto my face. Good-bye, twelve hour work days. Good-bye, extra side jobs. Sayonara, constant fear of falling into unending debt. Putting the phone on speaker, I sent a quick text to mom, fingers shaking.

 _I did it! I got the job! :-)_


	6. Chapter Six

Surrrrrrrprise! Early update! If anyone ever seems out of character, please just be patient; you can't boil water without first turning on the heat!

* * *

This was not going to be his day.  
Or week.  
Or maybe even month.

Shota Aizawa preferred to have all lesson work completed ahead of time; that way, he could wait until the last possible second before having to leave his warm apartment for...This.

He stared abysmally at his barren classroom, bathed in the golden sunlight of the evening. It was Saturday and the school was silent- empty but for him and perhaps a few janitors. The students had enjoyed a brief half-week break; an award after finishing a bout of country-wide, mandatory exams the week prior. Not a single student had failed and, truth be told, Aizawa was mildly impressed.

The upcoming week held a lot of physics lessons and the very idea of teaching them was pounding a migraine into Aizawa's temples. Some of the students, though possessing great talents in physical ability, were greatly limited in terms of science and written work. This was still a high school, after all; general education coursework, like the exams, still had to be taken. A great sigh fled through his lips, head pulsing with phantom pains of previous years' reactions to abiogenesis and other fun subjects. His mood was already foul and class hadn't even resumed yet.

" _Good morning, and welcome to Ethical Studies in the Culture of Today,"_

A cringing shiver snaked down Aizawa's spine at the soft voice drifting through his partly-open door.

It was that new-hire, Tsutomi. He scratched his head, feeling the uncontrollable annoyance building in the back of his throat.

He couldn't even explain it; there was just something about her that bothered him. She was too calm. The way she smiled, the liquid movements. The only other interviewee who was so perturbingly unruffled clearly had some sort of mental quirk keeping him that way. So what was this woman's story?

 _No one is that placid naturally._

His footfalls were near-silent in the hallway. He wore the dark, looser jumpsuit specifically to be stealthy, and it did not disappoint.

Her professional clothing had fallen away. Instead the woman was wearing a loose olive shirt and black leggings, a large knit sweater encompassing her arms and swallowing her down to mid-thigh. She was narrow but soft-looking, like she'd never lifted anything heavier than maybe a textbook. That great mass of hair was piled up on her head and hardly moved as she talked to herself, lips muttering silently as she shuffled through a stack of papers on her desk. _If she wrote a script, she should just quit now._

Dark eyes surveyed the room and Aizawa's dread grew exponentially.

She'd turned the classroom into an unrecognizable place of mats, pillows, and spherical chairs. Two lone tables, parallel to one another, stood on either side of the room, though not possessing enough chairs for an entire class. Decorated boxes held plethoras of mismatched clipboards and there were different colored canisters around the room, filled to the brims with pencils and pens of all various shapes and sizes.

Most horrifying was the ceiling. Where there was once the standard fluorescent lights she'd attached a great length of navy material with soft, glimmering christmas lights spread across the insides like some surreal Van Gogh painting.

 _What the actual_ _ **hell**_ _has this woman done?_

"Good morning, I'm Miss Tsutomi. Welcome to ethical studies- No, welcome to Ethics Class-" She was still muttering to herself, pacing what looked like the pelt of a Ferbie. Aizawa sauntered into the room just as a pin came undone in the ceiling, spilling out a strand of small white lights. Tsutomi sighed and climbed up on a chair to fix the upset and Aizawa watched, bemused.

"It'd be in your best interest to take all this shit down before the students arrive Monday; wouldn't want them to mistake your class for a kindergarten one,"

Having worked with more physically-astute and consciously-aware adults for so long, he'd expected her to at least be moderately aware of his presence before he'd announced it. Likewise, based on her stoic behavior during the interview, Aizawa figured her largest response to being surprised might be a slow eye blink.

The idiotic girl instead let out a small squeal, staggering on the chair before losing her balance together.

He moved on reflex, catching her flailing body without much effort. Wide eyes swallowed his, mouth opened to form a little "o". He suddenly felt smug, about to give an additional sneering comment, when a hand made contact with his face, _hard_.

She'd slapped him.

Aizawa touched his smarting cheek and she rushed out of his grip, standing on wobbly legs. He stared, dumbfounded, as the woman came to realize what she'd done. Instantly she fell into a deep bow.

"Excuse me, Mr. Aizawa; I-I'm so sorry. I didn't realize- you scared me, and my natural reaction was to-"

"Strike?" He offered helpfully. Color filled her cheeks despite her obvious efforts to seem unfazed. _Good_ , he thought, _at least she's able to feel some sort of human emotion._ "I sincerely hope that's not the first reaction you'll have around my students,"

An eyebrow twitched. It was miniscule, but his perceptive eyes missed nothing: he'd annoyed her.

"Obviously not."

"Just towards fellow staff, then?"

"I sincerely apologize, Mr. Aizawa. If needed, I could try and ease your pain,"

The calm way she was spoke still pissed him off. The realization he might potentially be hearing it for years to come, wandering into his room from time to time, caught in the hallways and during meetings, _on a regular basis_ , was like fingernails on a chalkboard. He had caught several glances of displayed emotion when she wasn't aware of being observed, such as a few moments before he'd made her aware of his presence, so why was she such a robot in front of others? Did she think it made her look more professional, older? It was like she had no personality of her own. He stood, brushing off his pant legs.

"I think I've had enough physical contact from you to last a lifetime, thanks."

"Pity," She answered. He turned, surprised, only to be struck with that same blank smile. "That you're unwilling for me to aid you, that is. I've always felt it says a lot about one's character when they refuse help,"

"Oh? And what does it say?"

"According to Dr. Seltzer, who's done a great deal of work in psychotherapy, you could simply be too prideful. Or," Her mentality of cool passiveness was back with just a hint of derision, body lithe as she stepped closer, watching him. Her eyes were suddenly more sly than before. Once she was only inches away her head tilted, smile curling just a fraction.

"You might live in the camp of belief that taking aid from others puts one in a position of vulnerability to the provider. Are you afraid of being put in a subordinate position by me due to internalized trust issues, perhaps? Mr. Aizawa?"

Murderers.  
Thieves.  
Villains.  
Classroom disruptions and small talk and wild students; Aizawa had dealt with all cooly and efficiently, never having his heart rate rise any more than a few beats.

This woman was able to make his blood boil and pulse skyrocket with only a few shrewd words.

"What are you hiding?" He asked.

A chink in Chiyo Tsutomi's armor suddenly appeared as her eyes widened then narrowed, confused. He leaned in close, trying to control his sudden rage at this imposter, this _fake_ , who had the balls to come in here with such an attitude, as if he _owed_ her respect based on her newly-employed status. She was as green as a banana; new on the scene with no experience in _anything_ , and in turn was owed _nothing._

"You may have all the others here fooled, Tsutomi, but there's something rotting inside of you. Eventually it's going to break loose and you're going to come crashing off that little cloud of serenity. You might've scraped by in a normal high school but you and I both know you're not cut out for this place,"

He was inches from her pale, frozen face. Like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi truck; too late to move out of the way. His delivered the final blow, voice soft as a whisper.

"You and I both know the only vulnerable one here is _you_."

* * *

Every hair on my body stood on end; skin clammy and foreign to me.

 _His breath smells like coffee_ , was all I could think as Shota Aizawa, the primary teacher of Class 1-A, breathed into my face what I already knew, deep down.

Honestly, I originally went to nursing school. The reality of bruises, broken arteries, bodily fluids, and sudden awareness that I could sense all the above flowing through a person's body due to my quirk had scared me away pretty quickly.

Having no interest in politics or law school, I'd turned to the only thing I could think of: teaching.

I could read books that interested me, and spread the knowledge of them to others. I'd have significant breaks that no other profession could enjoy. And, if I got a position in a place like UA, I knew I'd be pulling in a reputable income.

Was I motivated by the growth of students? To a degree, maybe.  
But was I doing this for them?  
I knew the real answer. I'd always known, probably.  
It wasn't until I was in that final semester of school that I _really_ realized it, as I watched my class graduate without much feeling.

But there was no way that this snarky, spiteful man could be any better; as if his heart was more rightly placed than my own.

My mouth felt glued shut. I couldn't even force myself to meet his dark eyes. I tried twice before my voice broke through, dead even to my ears.

"I don't know what you mean."

I felt a soft rush of air on my face; he had _chuckled._

At last I exerted enough energy to lift my face up and meet Aizawa's. A perfect, pink imprint was starting to appear from where I had slapped him, and that gave me an ounce of strength. He leaned in again and I fought the urge to turn and bolt.

"You will, Tsutomi. You will."

Without another word he left, as quiet as he'd arrived.

I wobbled, landed in a nearby chair. My skin still felt electrified; not the best experience for someone with a liquid quirk. I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing. I could feel it, every ounce of it, running through my chest, my legs and arms, through my fingertips. I willed it to slow.

Ever since I was a child, when we learned I possessed a quirk, mom and I had worked on this; suppressing the fear, the anxiety, slowing everything down, creating something safe out of something so many used for destruction.

 _People will never understand, Chi-chan. People will never recognize how devastating quirks really are._

A shuffling occurred near my door. I didn't lift my head, letting it rest between my cool palms for a few moments more. I wasn't strong enough to handle more of Aizawa's coldness, not right now. "I got the message earlier, I'll stay out of your way-"

"I think you're mistaking me for someone else," Came the response. I rose quickly, turning in surprise to see a tall, frightfully skinny man standing in the doorway. His hair was wild and looked mostly fried, flopping into his sunken face, and the clothes that hid his skeletal body seemed several sizes too large. Frankly, he looked like he could use a good, hearty meal. He looked rather sinister but then his face broke out into an apologetic grin, a long-fingered hand reaching out to scratch at his hair. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

I quickly swiped at my face, ascertaining no little waterworks had spilled out. I put on the best smile I could manage and stood, offering a hand. "I'm Chiyo Tsutomi. Please, call me Chiyo,"

His hand was bony but absurdly warm, like Nasu when he dozed in the sun. The man started to answer but stopped himself, blushing.

"Er, Toshinori. Please call me...Toshinori. Or Toshi, maybe."

"Maybe?" I laughed despite myself and Toshinori reddened some more, quickly burying his hands in the deep pockets of his baggy pants. He looked up in wonder before surveying the classroom as a whole. Wonder brightened his eyes. "This is really amazing. Did you- is this your classroom? You did all this yourself?"

"Mhm," I hummed, rubbing at my face again. What if my mascara had smudged across my face? Would this guy comment if it had? "Sorry, I didn't catch what _you_ do here."

"Oh! I, uh, I aid the...hero program. I work in close proximity to All Might, since, um, he, uh-"

"Just started teaching this year?" I filled in. Toshi nodded, grateful for the aid. I grabbed his arms immediately. He staggered, caught off guard by my steel grip and severe expression.

"You...work with All Might?"

"Er, yeah?"

"So, what do they feel like? Are they as perfect as they look?" I asked, dead serious. His eyes widened and his previous blush paled in comparison to the new shade taking over his entire body.

"I- what do you-"

"His muscles," I stated plainly, not relinquishing my tight grasp on his skinny arms, "Are they rock hard? Is his skin soft? Are they ever _not_ -flexed?" I stared off dreamily into space. "When I saw him in person, all I could think of was rib-eye steak: thick, juicy, perfect-"

" ** _Ahahaha_**! I, uh, I have no idea what they- I don't just- that's not really the sort of thing I-"

Toshinori displayed an array of embarrassment tells, face ruby-red and sweaty as his entire body swayed side to side, matching his shaking head and arms. He seemed caught between awkward laughter and panicked, gasping breaths. I wiped at my mouth, making sure I hadn't started drooling during my little fan-rant, watching the frail blonde man have his own little meltdown. _Was Toshinori attracted to the symbol of hotness too?_

"It's okay if you're attracted to him too, Toshi- it's the twenty-first century-"

"THAT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT THE CASE HERE" He all but roared before blood suddenly erupted from his mouth. I blinked in surprise; both at his chosen decibel level and the newfound crimson staining his chin. He quickly covered his mouth and coughed, turning his back to me. I shook my head with a smile, snatching a few tissues from a nearby box and wandering over to him.

"Are you not used to being teased or something?" My voice was casual as I pulled his hands away and wiped the blood up myself. He became very still at my touch and I flicked my eyes to his, trying not to smile too widely. He relaxed and smiled back, sheepish. It was a strange look on his almost-haunted face. I shook my head, banishing the thought, before pulling away, inspecting the face in question.

"Good as new! Try not to freak out so much next time I joke around, Toshi-chan?"

"I'll try," He offered, though still a little pink. I looked away, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed myself.

Here I had been so upset, terrified of the upcoming first day of teaching and then of Shota Aizawa and his ominous foreshadowing. Now I was casually flirting and pulling jokes with another UA teacher, albeit one far less intimidating than the ones I'd interviewed with. I took in a calming breath and glanced around us, at the room I'd worked so hard on.

Eraserbrain be damned. It was a cool room, and I was entitled to create whatever atmosphere I chose for my students.

"I think I'm done here for the night," I commented, feeling fulfilled. Regardless of how much practice I did, I'd either mess up or I wouldn't; there was no controlling the overall outcome or slip of the tongue. Tossing the bloodied tissues into the trash, I scooped up my bag and water bottle (fifth of the day; I should really invest in a large thermos or something) and turned to my new friend. He held my gaze. We smiled at each other.

"Did you have more work to do here?" I asked.

"Hm? Oh, no. I was actually heading out when I noticed the light on in this- your- room."

"Great! We can walk together to the parking lot," I cheered, flipping the light off as I went. Toshinori lingered behind. I turned my attention to him and a long arm bent, fingers scratching the back of his shaggy blonde head once again. _Is he...nervous, or something?_

"Toshi-chan?" I inquired gently. He seemed flustered, looking down at the linoleum floor.

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd want to, maybe, get coffee somewhere? There's, uh, a cafe down the street. It's actually pretty good,"

So. He _was_ nervous.

He looked up, hopeful, and my brain offered the answer it always did, with all the reasons why I should say no.

But, strangely, I heard myself respond with a yes _._


	7. Chapter Seven

Good evening! I've extremely enjoyed all the reviews this little story has received. It means SO much to me to see people are enjoying this. We're on a slow train to learning about Chiyo, but I'm excited for the journey!

* * *

Monday. It was still ten minutes before the first bell would ring and I felt like I was going to vomit or melt into a terrified, shivering little puddle.

Maybe both.

Already a trail had been carved into the rug closest to my desk, worn in by my persistent pacing. It didn't help that half of Class 1-A composed the first hour of my morning, the best of the best hero potentials sliced into two groups for the first time, just for me. To focus on each individual student, I'd requested smaller class sizes.

Imagine my pure surprise when the wish was actually _granted._

I scrutinized my schedule for the millionth time. Homeroom was listed first- did that mean the kids on my roster were my homeroom? I could've sworn Principal Nezu told me homeroom occurred at the _end_ of the day. Two medium piles of assignment books were neatly stacked on the corner of my desk, bright with UA's colors and logo. Were they for _homeroom_ kids or just my regular first hour kids? I bit my lip and wondered if it was worth bothering someone over to find out.

"Good morning!"

I turned to find Toshinori-chan in my doorway, grinning. I could only supply a feeble little smile as I eased on over, trying to still my quaking legs. He chuckled, offering one of the two white cups he currently cradled in his long-fingered hands. I took it, nodded my head in thanks.

"Nervous?" He asked.

"Terrified," My voice was weak and fluttery. I took a long, hard pull on the dark coffee he'd brought, surprised by the slight kick of caramel. _Had he memorized my order?_

"Don't worry, the kids are actually pretty decent, and they've already had a positive taste of you from your interview day. If anything, they'll just be glad to be in a class not involving math or anything too physical,"  
I lolled my head in his direction, expression flat. Toshi's grin only grew and he clinked his cup with mine. "Plus you're kind and release a pretty soothing vibe. If anything, your biggest issue will be trying to hype them _up_ , not the other way around."

"They probably need the calming atmosphere after dealing with _Aizawa_ every day," I grumbled into my frothy cup. The shaggy blonde laughed, feet dragging back towards the door. _He must have his own classes to teach,_ I realized, flicking my eyes towards the clock. The ticking seconds felt closer to unleashing an atomic bomb rather than some teenage students.

"Aizawa's not actually a bad guy. Pretty much the opposite, actually."

"Agree to disagree,"

"He's not the most talkative, sure, and when he is it's usually pretty straightforward and exhaustingly honest, but his heart's in the right place. He's just...Aizawa,"

Toshinori Yagi was nice and I trusted him, but this all seemed a little too naive to completely believe. He was nearly out of the door and the bell would ring any second now, but I was still curious.

"I take it you've known him a long time?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. We used to run into each other in the field,"

"Field?" I asked, confused. Toshi suddenly tripped, holding his coffee high as he tried to regain his balance. He rose with a bout of strange laughter, moving steadily closer to the door, more hurried than even before.

"All Might would, I mean! I often take record of his outings for...training purposes."

"I see,"

I didn't see; I'd stopped listening after the golden words "All Might". Speaking of which, I hadn't seen the rippling mass of muscles anywhere this morning. Before I could inquire of his tasty whereabouts, the bell rang and a wave of nerves came rolling back in, just as the breathing skeleton all but ran out the door, waving as he went.

"Good luck! Not that you'll need it! Welcome to UA Academy!"

I swallowed, feeling nauseous all over again. _You went to school for years, specifically for this. There's no reason to be so nervous; they're just teenagers. They don't even know the difference between mortgages and mortuaries yet. If the kids from the other day are similar at all to the others, you'll be fine._

I stepped into the hall, face pleasant.

Shota Aizawa boredly stared back.

 _No._

His wiry body was resting against his door frame, arms crossed and face unmoving. I tried to remember what Toshinori had said, how he praised this skinny douchebag, and bit back any comment my mind might've tried to spit out. Instead I (tried to) smile, falling back against my own open door.

"Mr. Aizawa."  
"Tsutomi," He acknowledged plainly. That's okay; I didn't need him to display anything more than basically civility. I nodded to myself and he shifted, as if wanting to say something.  
"About the other day-"  
"Heyyy, hottie newbie! Thcore!"

Both of our attention turned and I watched in horror as that little purple-balled pervert waved jovially, heading in my direction. Hair whipped my face as I shook my disapproval; of _course_ I'd get this kid first thing in the morning. I noted he was again being chased down- this time by that class rep with the glasses and speed quirk, Iida- and two other faces I recognized from the other day. At last he caught up, slapping Mineta's forehead with a string of reprimands. Crocodile tears flooded out of the Mineta's eyes and he turned to me, expecting a rescue. I wiped at my nose and looked away, aloof.

"Oh, come on! I was being nice!" He groaned. I stared him down until he at last shriveled, hopefully recalling my previous, real-as-life threat. I wondered if that was the method I'd have to use all year with this little creep-o. His baubles bounced with each of his footsteps as he scampered into the classroom, the others hot on his heels.

"Sorry, what were you saying before?"

Aizawa had apathetically watched the whole scene unfold before him and now slowly brought his attention back to me. My smile came easier this time; who knows, maybe I'd actually grow to like these kids. Mineta was clearly an idiot, but a harmless one, and they _had_ helped me land this job; without their quirks I never would have made it to begin with. Already I could feel my nervousness ebbing away. Even Aizawa seemed less intimidating, regardless of his near foot-taller height and closed-off persona.  
He seemed to consider me, again about to speak, when an eruption of cacophony echoed out of my room. I turned, keeping my calm, to see the students had discovered their unconventional seating and less-glaring lighting situation.

"Ah! A teacher who possesses ingenuity and a flare for unorthodox atmospheres! Excellent! Perhaps the comfort one finds themself in impacts their overall learning?"  
"Wow, look at the lights- they look like stars!"  
"There's not even a glare on the board because of them-"  
"Holy crap! Maybe we should get Mr. Aizawa over here; he could theriously take a page outta this lady's book-"

I couldn't help it- I smirked. That shit-eating grin was far quicker than my trained expressions of passiveness and reservation, but I had at least enough humility to not look directly at Aizawa's probably-soured face. A curtain of hair fell in my face upon my bent head and I hid behind it, trying to compose myself once more. A great, heaving sigh that was quickly becoming familiar filled the space between us. I peeked up to find his face a little less grim and more or less exhausted, eyes just as rimmed as before with an unhealthy, creeping red. My lips were still quirking up and I swear a muscle in his cheek twitched.

"I'm still not convinced you're cut out for this profession, especially in a school such as this, and I still think you're hiding something." I debated protesting but the final bell rang and Aizawa rose, looking away from me and towards his filled classroom.

"Regardless, welcome to UA Academy...Miss Tsutomi."


	8. Chapter Eight

I am not affiliated with any rights to My Hero Academia (Obsessed? Yes. Crazily talented/wealthy? No.)

* * *

Nine sets of eager eyes followed my every move just as soon as I entered the room. I knew there should be ten, but based on the eerily-floating clothes I assumed one student's quirk caused invisibility and, judging by the feminine bulges, it must be a girl. I walked towards my desk and grabbed the assignment books, hoping the instability of my limbs wasn't as obvious to them as it was to me. The students were dispersed across the room; some in spherical chairs, others sprinkled on large pillows. Tenya Iida sat singularly at the table, looking a little uncomfortable but still game. I took a quick pull from my new thermos (gifted to myself _and_ on clearance) before turning to the class.

"Good morning! I'm Ms. Tsutomi, and I'll be serving as your ethics instructor. Mina Ashido?"

"Present!" The girl raised a pink hand in the air, a grin plastered on her equally-pink face. Little horns poked out of her wild, short pink hair, and her eyes were almost completely black except for two pinpoints of amber irises. I smiled back as I handed her the booklet with her name adorned on the front.

"Tsuyu Asui?"

"Call me Tsu" Said a big-eyed, emerald-haired girl. Her tongue was sticking out of her mouth like a little frog. I blinked.

"You...Are so cute," I said, laughing. She- Tsu- pinked a little before smiling herself. _So far, so good._

"Oop, I missed one- Yuga Aoyama?"

"Ah, mon amie! You were probably dazzled by my sparkling charm and appearance-"

"Toru Hagakure?" I interrupted bluntly. The class giggled as I rejected the obvious, over-the-top presence of this blonde, misty-eyed boy, moving on to the waving glove seemingly void of an arm. "Hello. I imagine your quirk can be quite troublesome for teachers, huh?"

"I've just learned to shout out answers as opposed to raising my hand," Toru responded simply. Her body wriggled in its seat and she added, "Plus, I have to remove all my clothes to be completely stealthy, which isn't something I like to do in public."

"Not that she hasn't done it before…" Iida muttered, seemingly flustered. I realized it probably wasn't because there had been a naked girl near him at some point; rather, because it was probably against school code to remove one's clothing altogether. I shook my head and placed an assignment book on his desk.

"Tenya Iida, class rep," I informed him. He gave an affirmative nod, looking impressed with himself. I wondered if anyone else had even ran against him for his prideful position.

Midoriya and Mineta were next, taking their books with a smile and sulking observance, respectively. I handed out a book to a boy with human-looking hands and a feathered head, who responded with a stoic nod. _Okay then._

Uraraka was seated next to a sleek-looking girl donning a crisp uniform and voluminous ponytail. Skin clear, eyes bright, and seemingly confident, I thought back to my own high school days and how I was pretty much the exact opposite. This is the type of girl I'd _strived_ to be like. I suddenly felt defensive and quieted while handing her the small spiral. She smiled.

"It's nice to finally have a teacher a little more down to earth!" She cheered, taking the book scribed with _Momo Yaoyorozu_ in both hands, as if it were a delicate gift. Uraraka nodded in agreement, eyes wide with excitement. _Okay, so maybe I was very much overreacting. More work needs to be done about those quick assumptions of mine._

"Please. You haven't seen what this mad woman is capable of yet…"

"What was that?" I asked calmly, turning a burning gaze towards Mineta. He instinctively looked away, sweating suddenly. I nodded, smug and satisfied. _That's what I thought._

"Okay! Instead of going over a syllabus and class rules right off the bat, I thought we'd get to know each other first and assess some characteristics," I informed, settling into a chair of my own. It was spherical and the material was white and fur-like, soft to the touch and comfortable. It was mom's congratulatory gift for my classroom, and I hoped to keep it as pristine for as long as possible. What better way to do so than simply sit in it myself?

"I would like you guys to line up in chronological order based on your birthdays, with the eldest at the back and youngest at the front. You will be timed for this exercise. But!" They were already turning to each other, ready to discuss, and turned back for the kicker. I held a finger up with a smile. "You can't speak to each other. Not a word."

"What?! How are we-" Mineta began, words tapering off after Ashido pinched his mouth shut. I held up my phone, timer ready.

"Go!"

This was a great exercise to check collaborative skills and quickly it was obvious who excelled and who sincerely needed improvement. After a minute or so of all the students running around as individuals, miming birth months, astrological signs, and what appeared to be what Uraraka must do for birthday festivities, Midoriya clapped. All attention turned to him and he pointed to Uraraka before holding both hands, palm towards her, in question. The brunette blinked before her brown eyes widened, holding up ten fingers before displaying two more. Midoriya nodded and pointed to the end of the line.

 _Now they've got it_.

The progression sped up, Iida going through the line and mime-checking the years. Within the minute of he and Midoriya taking the lead, the line was complete.

"2:36! Not bad!" I displayed the timer before setting it aside to clap. "Now, line up alphabetically based on your favorite food- only this time, you're free to speak,"

Chaos ensued for a few horrible seconds. This time, Momo took charge, glossy ponytail swinging with her movement "If the food begins with a through m, move to the front. Su, alphabetize them from there. N through Z, moved to the back with me."

"Less than a minute and a half this time; even better," I praised, pleasantly surprised. Different students had taken initiative this time, and the majority of wasted seconds had been spent on indecisive students (Uraraka, Mineta, Aoyama) trying to decide on a food. I ushered for everyone to sit and, quite proudly, I noticed they all chose seats not only a little closer to one another but to me as well.

"So. Was that difficult?"

A round of nods and agreements answered.

"Why?"

"Because we couldn't just shout out our birthdays and go from there," Mineta answered.

"You were limited in your abilities," I agreed. "How was that?"

"Really irritating"

"It definitely made things harder," Midoriya admitted.

"Harder, but impossible?"

"Obviously not," Momo spoke this time. "After we were able to come together as a team, it was all easy street from there,"

"So teamwork was more important than ability?"

There was a pause then.

"Well, yes," It was the bird-shaped boy this time, his voice level. "With the exception of a few leading students, the collaboration between us outweighed individual ability. Without teamwork, as you phrased it, our group would have floundered."

"So the work of the group, regardless of an important ability, was able to pull off the feat sufficiently, yes?"

Again the group nodded. I felt my face growing sly and I leaned forward, looking between each of the students.

"If that's the case, then why do we even need heroes, as their abilities do not outweigh those of the collaborative masses? Put more simply: if a group of people lack ability but excel in working together, why would they need someone with unique abilities to help or save them?"

Silencio.

"Your homework is to come up with an answer," I glanced at the clock, noting the period was nearly up. Several students, such as Su, Tokoyami, and Midoriya looked pensive, while others (Mineta and Iida) looked dumbfounded. I nearly grinned; icebreaker brain teaser: successful. We had a few minutes left and I wandered over to the purple-headed lecher, giving one of the balls a poke. Uraraka giggled nearby.

"So, what's the deal with these?" I asked, giving them another jab. They seemed a little sticky and I was suddenly worried about what kind of residue might now be on my finger. I discreetly wiped it on the back of my dress, hopeful it was a natural stick and not something he'd done to them.

"They're my sticky balls. I can make them stick to anything I want and they won't unstick unless I do it myself," His lisp made everything he was saying seem even more absurd. Mineta pulled one off and squeezed it; the orb was pliable but returned to its original shape after each movement. He offered it to me and I gave it one last final nudge, too afraid if I picked it up I wouldn't be able to get it off.

"I can create inanimate objects by using the lipids from my body, so long as I know their makeup," Momo offered and, holding her hand out, she created a little wooden doll. It had curling, painted hair and a striped dress on, with a little smile and two rows of eyelashes over two small dots for eyes. I realized with great delight she had created _me_.

"Yaoyorozu! Oh my goodness!" I squealed, clapping. Momo pinked as I grinned ear to ear, Mineta's balls long forgotten. "Can- may I keep it?"

"Of course," She answered shyly. I cradled the doll carefully, as if any sudden movement might dispel the creation, and immediately hurried over to set it at the forefront of my desk, on display for the whole classroom. _My first gift!_

"What about you, Miss Tsutomi? What's your quirk?" Midoriya asked in a friendly manner. That involuntary twitch tickled my limbs as it always did when broached about this subject. I rose carefully, scratching my neck. _How much do I share?_

"I, um, I don't use my quirk. Not usually, anyway,"

The whole class seemed taken aback. Uraraka voiced the class's surprise; "What? Why?"

For the first time in a while, a dozen thoughts and answers ran through my mind. _How much do I disclose? How much is_ too _much, especially this early in the year?_ Instead I went with my rehearsed answer; the one mom had me recite so many times I didn't even need to think it out.

"I have no need to. Society thrived prior to quirks, meaning everyday life is possible without their usage as well."

"So you work at a school built on the foundation of creating heroes, but don't believe in using quirks," Tokoyami spoke slowly. I shook my head, a little agitated. Panic was nipping at my ankles at the new, semi-judgmental tone of the room. I needed to turn this horse back around to the _real_ point at hand.

"That's not what I'm saying at all. Actually, add this to your homework: Why do we need heroes in general, and would it be right to force those with unique or powerful quirks to use them for the public good?"

My question ended just as the bell rang. My class lingered, seemingly lost in thought, before slowly rising. I smiled, wishing them all a good day, trying to ignore my rattling organs and staticky mind, catching a memory like a scratch on vinyl.

 _It was amazing._

 _The water danced like sparkling stars, catching the light and reflecting it across my arms, my legs, my cheeks._

 _I had been washing my hands, preparing for dinner, when the water suddenly sprang to life and out of the filled sink, circling me like a protective windchime._

 _The door opened and I grinned, excited for mom to see that I was_ _ **special**_ _, that I, like the heroes on TV, had acquired a special talent._

 _The droplets fell, leadened, as her scream ripped through my chest._

* * *

The following classes were similar in character, excluding a rather loud blonde who kept inquiring about the effectiveness of class 1-A. I couldn't tell if he was an overzealous fan or simply jealous of them. Regardless, I still much preferred the earlier hour kids to his class, barely feeling guilty over my quickly-growing biases. A few other students, including a pitch-black character with startling white hair and a tired-looking boy with indigo eyes, were interesting, but proved more reserved than disruptive. I sighed, suddenly exhausted, and pulled out my little homemade lunches from the mini-fridge behind my desk.

These students were, so far, rather sweet and obedient, and had quirks both useful or interesting (I was still a little curious how Tsu used her power. Couldn't frogs throw up their stomachs? _Could she do that?_ ) that they discussed freely and with ease.  
I wondered what that was like. _Did their parents...Were they excited, to know? Proud?_

 _Weren't they scared?_

* * *

The class funneled out at a controlled, quick pace, wanting nothing more than to run wildly but too fearful of their teacher's impeccable wrath. Every second of lunch was vital for nourishment and gossip and diffusing all their newfound knowledge out of their ears as quickly as possible.

Or Aizawa supposed, anyway.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes closing at the sudden quiet.

 _Beautiful._

The tired hero stretched his neck, moving side to side, when he noticed something mildly horrible.

He could see that idiot new girl, straight across the hall, clear as day.

He'd been surprised when she hadn't shown up in the blue blazer and skirt from the other day; instead she was an annoying nautical vision, dress striped like a beach umbrella and small heeled sandals to boot. Golden starfish peeked out of her long hair; it was down today, another difference in appearance.

 _She wore fucking echinoderms on her ears, for God's sake. Where did this woman come from?_

Chiyo Tsutomi had already created quite a stir around the school. Apparently she'd started right in with the hard, philosophical questions that had the students discussing her lesson even outside of her specific classroom. He'd already had to silence a handful of whispered discussions and it wasn't even after noon yet.

Also interestingly, she'd inquired about their personal lives and quirks, and had went so far as to even tease a few of them. Tsuyu seemed particularly chipper in class. Tsutomi had grown some fans.

He'd also gleaned some very interesting information: the new teacher at UA didn't like using her quirk.

 _My assumption was right, then._

He wondered if this little tidbit was related to the mystery around her behavior. Was she appalled by heroes? Quirks in general? _She wouldn't have applied to this job if that were actually the case._

A far more foreboding thought struck him. _What if...She's a mole? The distaste for "control" does not exclude her from attempted villainy, regardless if it concerns using her own quirk._

He'd been watching her as the whole conversation circled his mind, lost in the hornets of thoughts.

Tsutomi was and had been gazing out the window, looking to be just as deep in thought. That polite smile from this morning wasn't strapped on her face but she didn't exactly look upset, either. The best word Aizawa could think of to explain her expression was...puzzled _._ Vulnerable.

She didn't really _seem_ the type to be an informant. He'd caught dozens over his professional lifetime, and felt he had a rather good grip on the signs. _So what's her deal, then?_

Maybe he was being too hard on her. Grudgingly he looked away and slowly rose to his feet. She obviously didn't realize all instructors ate for free in the cafeteria, or that the majority shared their meals together in the teacher's lounge. He'd just reached the door, still hidden in the cool dark of his room, when a familiar, looming figure appeared, almost nervously hovering within Tsutomi's door.

She turned.

Two perfect rows of teeth appeared between her pink lips, bright as fluorescents.

"Toshinori! I was hoping you'd come; I made you a lunch, you're so skinny-"

Shota Aizawa backed away from the door but not entirely out of sight, letting the scene unfold. He watched the once-stoic young woman burst with exuberance and light, teasing the lanky, blushing blonde man, all but forcing food into his mouth. Her movements and stature, the genuine smile on her face and ease in his presence, mirrored the opposite of her usual outward appearance, and Aizawa came to two conclusions.

One: Chiyo Tsutomi did not realize the true identity of the hero All Might.

Two: She more than likely believed Toshinori Yagi, known only to a small handful as the true identity of All Might, possessed no quirk.

And that's why she was comfortable around him.


	9. Chapter Nine

My afternoon classes were a fucking nightmare.

My chest had practically hummed with excitement to have the other half of Class 1-A prior to lunch with Toshi-chan, curious to learn their responses and effectiveness in the class activity.

Instead I received a bunch of dull stares and silence, awkward shifting and a lack of general effort.

 _They stuck all of the good kids in one class and the duds in the other. Great._

Sparky from before had no control over his outbursts, apparently, and the chronological line-up was a disaster. At every inconvenience Bakugo would break the silence and start shouting, which led to the red-haired one to harden his skin like an armadillo and shout back. I did notice a student silently communicating with the others, ushering them in directions without much effort. After lining the others, he froze Bakugo's feet in place (luckily on the linoleum and _not_ one of my rugs) and led the others to line up behind him. His hair was split in half like a comic book character and not once did he smile, but there was something kind of calming about him, too. I decided he was had potential of being not-horrible. Bakugo seemed almost sulky after the objective was met, as if he thought _he'd_ be the one to finish first. _Did he not even realize the point was to work as a team?_

The verbal action of rearranging by food went a little smoother, again led by the shouting Bakugo and mellow-voiced iceboy, and within three minutes the line was complete. I let out a breath, thankful, and called them back to order.

"If you without abilities, such as talking, were able to carry out a task, why do we need those with quote-unquote "special" abilities at all?"

"Huh? What d'you mean?" The other blonde- Kaminari?- asked. I'd noted he'd sat rather close to a bored-looking girl with elongated earlobes, eyes dull and arms crossed, as if unimpressed by the world around her. _Good luck with getting with that one, kid._

"I mean, if you applied the idea of this activity to the real world, you could logically note humanity's ability to adapt and respond to tasks and incidents themselves, regardless of overlying abilities such as quirks. Only one of you utilized a quirk for this activity, and even then it was simply to immobilize a classmate momentarily. So with this applied, is there even a need for heroes?"

The class fell silent. It could've been in the familiar stunned quiet as this morning.

It could've simply been because they didn't really give a shit.

A harsh, angry voice cut through then, as sharp as a blade.

"Don't be an idiot,"

 _Shit, do I call him out on his tone?_ The whole class turned to Bakugo, who looked more pissed than I'd ever seen him to date. His anger bit into my skin and I felt myself unnaturally cool, regulation hiccupping within my veins.

"Excuse me?"

"The world needs heroes to protect the weak, pathetic people who won't stand up for themselves. Screw your whole 'working together without quirks' bullshit; it wastes time and lives. If you're better than others or have a quirk that's powerful, you use it. Otherwise you're just as worthless as the rest of them."

I suddenly felt incredibly exposed, as if the heat from his glare had melted off my thin outer shell of protection. _Is this...personally directed at me?_ We'd entered a staring match, slightly-widened eyes boring into the maddened eyes of a wild animal's. I took a deep, silent breath through my nose, slowing my heartbeat. _No. There's no way he knows anything. He's basing this off the question and his own anger and mentality, nothing else. Keep your calm, do your job. Don't make this about_ _ **you**_ _._

"So, should talented quirks be forcefully utilized? Would you support, for example, a law stating all persons with exceptional quirks must enlist in the hero force?"

" _Yes."_

" _ **No.**_ "

The students looked at each other, surprised, and contentedness filled my pores.

"Who the hell said no?!"

"Bakugo, this is your only warning; bring down the explicit language."

" _Who was it?!_ "

Several hands rose. Including, interestingly, the silent-working half-and-half from earlier. Bakugo seemed uninterested in the masked, multi-armed student, the girl with the earjacks, and the beige, large student whose head mildly resembled a boulder or their raised arms; instead he seemed personally triggered by the quirk-wielding boy with the different colored eyes. He was looking directly back at the practically-feral Bakugo, unmoved.

"Todoroki?! Of all the spineless idiotic bast-"

" _Bakugo_ "

"Idiotic _morons_ to disagree with a law like that, I didn't expect it to be _you_."

Todoroki continued to wordlessly stare on at Bakugo, unafraid of his classmate all but breathing fire in his direction. This brought the spiked blonde's rage level ten degrees higher. "What, you don't even have a defense for you bullcrap choice?"

Todoroki's gaze turned, finding myself watching with great interest from the front of the classroom. I felt my lips purse, mostly in smugness. Having a student agree with my personal opinion, even if I could never voice it during a lesson, was a trifle more delicious than I expected. After countless lessons in Methods and EdLaw, I knew better than to play favorites. Regardless, Bakugo wasn't in a position of power to demand an answer from another student- not in my class, anyway. "You are under no obligation to answer if you don't feel like it, Todoroki. This is a rather open class, and for now we're only focusing on what we're comfortable with."

" _What_?" Bakugo raged, slamming a fist into the table, "You're not gonna make him back up his stance? What kind of teacher _are you_?"

 _Ouch._ "No, I'm not. He owes you nothing."

"So he can disagree in a class discussion, but doesn't have to back it up. You owe it to us-"

" _I_ owe you nothing," I interrupted firmly. Bakugo was silenced; it was the first time I'd risen my voice more than a normal speaking tone, and the class seemed suddenly wide awake, attention pasted onto my face. I steadily looked on, hoping Bakugo would just self-calm so I wouldn't have to waste energy. "This class is going to be filled with questions and scenarios to help you grow and look outside your own perspective, Bakugo. Frankly, if you intend to shout and rage-quit every time you don't like a response or question, you're going to have a really difficult time in here."

I stood, glanced at the clock. "Besides, that's all the time we have today. Perhaps tomorrow Todoroki and the other will share their reasonings." I shrugged, smiling. "Or perhaps not. Ethics lesson number one: Regardless of how much power you possess, it is ill-advised and unethical to force answers out of non-threatening people. If you do, you're no better than the villains you want to defeat."

* * *

The final bell rang and I breathed easy for the first time in eight hours.

"Bye! See you tomorrow!"

Surprisingly, students responded to my calls. I received several small waves and returned pleasantries, smiles and even a comment on my lesson-game. Mixed with the excitement of the day ending, I was nearly giddy, even going to far as to smile at Aizawa when he glanced out his door. _I wonder if he can see into my classroom from his._

I barely cared; I was still basking in the accomplishment of finishing my first day. Not a single injury, death, or _total_ meltdown. I'd call that a success.

Tomorrow's lesson and the rest of the week's were all planned out, though I supposed I could get a head start on next week's. According the the guidebook all teachers received, we were to stay approximately half an hour after school each day in order to aid students. I straightened a few scattered pillows and turned my new doll just so, admiring its simple design and colors.

Momo constructed it effortlessly with her quirk, and yet it was a permanent creation that had brought joy to me. I debated putting it behind my desk, as opposed to the front, so it wouldn't get broken or harmed by careless hands or bodies aiming for seats. I carried it over to my chair, petting its perfectly-spherical head.  
Half of my day had moved quickly; I'd blinked and the lunch bell had rang, noting half the day's end. The afternoon had been more of a struggle, Bakugo's tangible rage for those too "weak" to use their quirk, to protect others, had etched itself into my psyche and raised questions I hadn't personally thought about for quite some time. Generally, my lessons were directed from a textbook or class lessons I'd experienced in college; I'd hardly ever spent any time actually thinking about the questions or dilemmas for myself- this seemed an easy method to establishing a troublesome bias. The first half of Class 1-A had reacted in the logical, planned way, pensive and slightly dazed, unused to the hard-hitting ethics of heroism, choosing to momentarily chew over their answer before making a decision. Fifth hour's class, clearly, fell in a differing school of thought and method almost entirely.

One seemed obviously preferable.  
One also seemed surprisingly interesting and... _provoking_.  
 _This will be an interesting year, indeed._

A change on my computer drew my attention and I glanced up, still lost in a thoughtful daze.

 _Principal Nezu_

 _Re: Trauma-Sensitive Teaching_

 _Good afternoon! With the increase in need for professional development hours, I have taken it upon myself to find educational sessions for my teachers that will benefit their instruction and classes as a whole. As you both deal directly with students within the hero program, I thought it would be beneficial for you both to attend the seminar Trauma-Sensitive Teaching: Helping Students Overcome Adverse Experiences, in which the impact of traumatic experiences is scrutinized in relations to learning and the classroom experience. All expenses have been paid and substitutes have been notified. Below you will find the attached pamphlet on dates, commodities, and schedule. This is an excellent opportunity to grow as an educator of our young heroes._

 _I look forward to hearing about all you learn!_

 _Principal Nezu_

 _This is two weekends from now,_ I realized. The allotted amount of money per meal was mouth-wateringly high, and I envisioned myself feasting like a queen for an entire weekend. My stomach grumbled at the thought, unimpressed with the meager-in-comparison meal I'd had earlier.

 _Hotel- 180 x 2 - 360_

 _Wait, what?  
_ Why would I need two hotel rooms? I clicked back on the email, noticing Principal Nezu had, in fact, used the words "you both" several times.  
I scrolled up to the recipient choice selection, stomach dropping.

 _Chiyo Tsutomi, Shota Aizawa_

Suddenly this trip seemed significantly less appealing.


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: I don't own anything affiliated with My Hero Academia. I _do_ own a whimsical imagination and writing style, though. Please be merciful.

* * *

I was pure euphoria.

Every pore seeped boundless energy and exuberance, like a kid on a holiday morning, or a fan about to watch the season premiere of their favorite show.

I did it. I had survived my first full week of classes.

The final bell was the sound of angel trumpets, releasing tides of students and faculty into the vast, free world. _I will never look at weekends the same way again._

"Miss Tsutomi! Have a good weekend!"

Momo, Tsu, and a few others stood in the doorway, grinning and wishing me a happy night. I waved back and desired them the same, happy to have students whose mind I even crossed outside of the classroom. I entered the hallway to wish others a good weekend and received a warm reciprocation from many of my new, curious students.

The more I taught, the more I learned; about quirks, about my students and their mentalities, about a world I'd never been much interested in. My new favorite target was moving quickly down the hall, angry face turned away like I wouldn't be able to recognize his pissed-off stomping and spiked hair anywhere.

" _Bye_ , Bakugo! Try not to kill anyone over the weekend, okay?" I called sweetly, even going so far as to throw in an overzealous wave. The ticking time bomb flinched at my voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as his pace increased tenfold. I smirked, mission accomplished.

"Harassing my students once again, Tsutomi?"

Aizawa appeared opposite me, as if recreating Monday morning's occurrence. Was this the nightmare edition? My nose wrinkled before I could stop myself from reacting, giving him a once-over.

"You challenge them physically- I challenge them mentally. Brains over brawn, you know," _Shit, where'd that fire come from?_ "Er, though I'm sure in the hero program, both are imperative,"

"Mmm," Aizawa grunted. His mouth was a straight line but his eyes were doing something strange; was he actually... _amused_? I didn't realize I was worthy of even his remote attention, let alone the direct-eye-contact kind.

We were going to have to spend nearly three whole days together in just one short week. Me and this sour, exhausted, half-mute of a man. The memory of my one attempted sleepover in grade school rose like oil in water.  
After two short hours I'd faked a stomach ache and asked to call my mom, crocodile tears dripping down my face. Like the savior she was, Mom had arrived within half an hour, stopped for fast food on the drive home, and spent half the night watching _Sailor Moon_ with me in our own pillow fort.

I doubted this situation would be nearly as ideal.

"So...Next weekend," I tried. Aizawa raised a hand, eyes closing.

"I already tried to get out of it. Apparently Principal Nezu thinks my approach towards students directly after traumatic training is 'too intense'" He actually made parenthesis around the last two words, looking sullen. "I highly disagreed, but as you'll find out the principal isn't one to back out of his own ideas. He seemed pretty adamant on us both going, even though you don't directly deal with traumatized students,"

"You know we share the same students, right?"

"Your relationship with the students ends at the bell; mine doesn't," He shrugged. "As irrational as taking away valuable class time for unnecessary, non-mandatory events seems to me, All Might will be leading their training Friday in my stead-"

"Why are you _such_ an asshole?" I blurted, unable to control myself. Anger raged in my veins, bubbling like molten lava; my relationship with the students ended with the bell? _Who the fuck says that?_ As if _he_ were closer to them? I'd been here a single week and already knew most of their names _without_ a roster; I wondered if Aizawa could say the same about half the academy's population.

"Why do you just assume I'm here for a paycheck? Because that's what it is, isn't it- you think I don't care but you _do_ , and that misconception leads you to believe you're better than me or something, right?"

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was _not_ the girl who talked back- I couldn't even send back a wrong order at a restaurant. Mom was always going on about non-confrontation. _It isn't worth it, Chi-honey, just walk away._ The tips of my fingers were trembling before they grew into fists at my sides, a newfound burst of confidence warming my chest as I pushed her words away. I stepped closer, feeling seconds away from breathing fire across his ignorant face.

"I'm new, and I get that, but don't just assume you know or are better than me, alright? Because you don't know me; you don't know _anything_ about me."

Silence.

The great eraserdick seemed...speechless. _Good_ , I thought righteously.

In a blurring, second-long motion, his whole face changed.

Eyes widening, jaw hanging to reveal a set of square, white teeth. In the same instant he recovered, burying his hands in his pockets, face disappearing under that annoying, unkempt hair. What was he _thinking_? I stared, wondering if I should apologize or just simply walk away, when his left cheek pulled at his mouth. _Was that...Is he trying not to_ _ **smile?**_

"You're right," Aizawa returned simply, "I don't."

 _I feel like there's more to this sentence_.

We were still standing just feet away from one another, eyes locked, when a great force crashed into my body. Immediately my oxygen supply was stolen and I scratched at the absurdly strong arms carrying me out of the hallway. Two dark eyes watched me, barely above the degree of mild interest, as I was abducted and returned to my own classroom. It wasn't until I flailed my hands out to the sides, wrapping my fingers tightly around the arms of my captor, that I realized it was _not_ the person's arms suffocating me.

" _Hello there!_ " She all but purred, body wiggling. In turn, the hefty breasts suffocating me bounced against my temples. My regulation fell off kilter in embarrassment and she squeezed me tighter, enveloping my entire head into her chest. I focused on the liquids within her arms and, as softly as possible, gently pushed, allowing just enough time and space for my frantic escape.

"Miss...Kayama," I exclaimed between each sacred, newfound breath. Onyx hair flounced as she stalked around my room, picking up items and ooh'ing at the glowing ceiling like so many had this week. Her face reminded me of those bad little boys in grade school who used magnifying glasses to incinerate ants.

"Chiyo Tsutomi, right? I'm Nemuri Kayama, but you seem to already known that,"

I touched my face, still gaping like a fish. "You were on the hiring committee."

"Correct! I was impressed with your cool disposition and well-thought answers!" She turned and gave me a cheesy thumbs up, grinning like a madman. Her hero costume was just as scandalous up close as it was on television. I had wondered why Mineta wasn't constantly ranting over Midnight, considering her...image. _Maybe she's even crazier than me._

Kayama fake swooned, an elegant hand draped tragically against her closed eyes.

"The road of teaching is long and full of terrors, but those who survive are rewarded in the bounty of the weekend, karaoke, and getting shit-faced among the weary peers who understand your woes,"

"Er, shit-faced?"

"Drunk! Hammered! Juiced! Loaded up! Freeing our _true selves through the elixir of the life_ ," She was sauntering towards me again, eyes wicked with a smile positively serpentine. I backed up on reflex, crawling backwards over the floor, anxiety spiking when the vixen hero took a tight hold on my shoulders to bring her face just centimeters away from my own.

 _Definitely crazier than me._

"Well, what do you say?"

"To clarify, you're asking if I just want to go to the bars with you, right?"

"To start, yes," She licked her lips, as if anticipating a tasty snack. "But who knows where the night will lead us, young Tsutomi? You are like a blossomed peach, just ripe for the picking-"

"That's enough, Kayama. You're going to scare her into never coming back,"

"Toshinori!" I exclaimed, grateful. The thin face of my friend smiled back from the doorway, blushing slightly at my relieved tone. My limbs were pulled by a natural force towards him, towards _safety_ from this madwoman, when Kayama suddenly pulled me into her ample bosom once again. This time my struggle was immediate.

"Please- can't- breathe-"

"You have to _share_ , Toshinori. You can't keep this young tilf to yourself,"

"Tilf?"

"You know, like _milf_ ; teacher I'd like to-"

" _AHAHAHA, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE REFERRING TO- I- WE ARE JUST-_ "

My brain began to slow, consciousness slipping due to a medley of oxygen deprivation and pure embarrassment. _At least if I die, I won't have to face Toshinori after this._

The heroine of scandal at last released me. I fell like a fish out of water, slipping into a chair and gasping for air. Instantly wild blonde hair surrounded my vision. Toshinori moved my face side to side, checking for signs of permanent damage. "Don't you think you went a little overboard? Chiyo's not like us; she's not used to such treatment-"

"She better learn before tonight," Kayama hummed, unbothered by my half-dead appearance. What kind of "fun" did professional heroes _have_? I racked my brain for a reason why I couldn't be able to go- would they believe I had lesson plans? Grading? _Maybe I should pick up my old movie job just to avoid situations like this._

"Tonight? Oh! Chiyo, are you coming with us?"

"Toshinori, you go too?" I asked, surprised. He didn't strike me as the type to drink. Was this the reason he actually looked so unhealthy? "Someone in your condition really shouldn't be risking their organ vitality-"

"Oh, come on now," Toshinori laughed, hands up in defense. "I'm not _that_ pathetic,"

"Yo, you sure about that?"

Shades, metal throat, and cockatiel hair. I noticed, absently, that Present Mic and Aizawa wore nearly identical clothing under their individual accessories. _What's that about?_

"So, you comin'?" He lowered his glasses to view me over their sepia shade. "Good. Ever since I saw you at that slammin' interview, I've had an itch to get to know you. And, coincidentally, your nails look just long enough to find that scratch," Present Mic crooned, eyebrows wriggling like epileptic caterpillars. I stared, wholly perturbed, before the blonde bird was knocked to the ground by two fists. Toshinori and Kayama grinned apologetically.

"Sorry about him," Toshinori said, handing Kayama a pillow.

"He's a bit of an idiot," Kayama continued, placing the pillow over the struggling MC's face and squashing his protests. I nodded, still stunned at the scene unfolding before me. _Are these really...professional heroes? The same people I've seen on tv?_ They seemed more like a comedy act. Present Mic escaped and Kayama held out her foot, tripping him.

 _A low-budget comedy act, at that._

"So! Will you come out with us tonight? I promise to keep Yamada under control. It's been so long since I've experienced the company of a young woman-" She was practically salivating and my fear sprouted a new limb. _What did these people do at bars_?

"I won't let Midnight take advantage of you, either," Toshinori quickly assured, stepping in front of Kayama. The raven-haired heroine shot Toshinori a glare full of derision. The urge to smile gradually eclipsed my desire to run.

"You're not going to make me sing karaoke, are you?" I asked cautiously. Toshinori's sweet grin, head shaking _no_ , was all the assurance I needed. I sighed in submission.

"Tonight, then! I'll text you the place. We usually head out around nine-thirty, ten. Can't stay out as late as we used to, now that we're old."

"Speak for yourself," Kayama sniffed, indignant. I noted that, like her chest, the layered spikes of her hair bounced with every movement. Present Mic twitched beneath her when she'd spoken; after the failed escape and resulting scuffle, she had placed the pillow tossed by Toshinori over Yamada's face and promptly sat on it. I wondered if he was quiet out of bliss or suffocation.

"Sounds good," I declared. With a few cheers and assurances of fun the trio left, each maintaining a tight grip on Yamada's arms as they unceremoniously dragged his unconscious body out of the room.

What had I agreed to, exactly? I could count on one hand how many times I'd drank in my life, and couldn't quite recall if I'd ever actually been inside a bar before; the majority of the time I was just at some friend's house, or sharing a glass of wine with my mom over dinner out.

 _Should I have mentioned that?_ I wondered, packing my belongings up and heading out for the weekend. A spike of adrenaline flooded like a river as a realization hit me; not only would I be experiencing a bar for pretty much the first time, but I'd be doing so with two well-known professional heroes. I threw my bags into the passenger seat of my car, hitting my leg with the closing door and cursing in pain.

 _Will they be recognized? I wonder if they sign autographs?_ Seeing that Present Mic and Midnight had bigger than life personalities, I bet they did. _At least Toshinori will be there to stand like a wallflower with me._

I sat, pensive. I had no idea what to even wear. _Should I go out and buy something? Should I take a nap beforehand?_

A willowy, slow-moving figure appeared out of the mouth of the school, catching my attention.

Hands in pockets with nothing but a thin slice of silver under his right arm. _He's only taking his computer home? Not even the charger?_

Aizawa stalked out towards the sidewalk, moving in the opposite direction of where I currently sat in my parked car. I had the sudden, distinct urge to follow him.

 _Chiyo, no._ He probably already thought I was a little bipolar psycho with no business in _his_ school, anyway. The slow, lackadaisical saunter he was currently performing seemed like the epitome of douche-baggishness, as if he were never in a hurry. As if there was never anything _worth_ hurrying for, or being excited about. My knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

He was just so _irritating_. From the moment I'd arrived he'd given me nothing but shit, and for _what?_ For not flaunting my quirk around? For not promoting my students to sacrifice themselves, like lambs to slaughter, as fledglings? The urge moved from following Aizawa to running him over with my car.

I crept along, unsure of my motives, pursuing eraserbrains at a single-block distance. Did he live around here, so close to the school? _How could he afford that on a teacher's salary?_ He was also a professional hero, though. _Two salaries, then._

Signals were going off like fireworks in my brain, flashing the same repeated message. I ignored them all like yield signs, steadily moving closer to my target.

 _3:45 PM: Shota Aizawa enters a nearby grocery store.  
_ _3:58 PM: Shota Aizawa leaves with four large grocery bags and an industrial sized bag of...cat food?_

Odd. He didn't strike me as the type to have pets. He hardly seemed able to withstand humans.

 _4:16 PM: Shota Aizawa arrives at an Animal Shelter  
_ _4:36 PM: Shota Aizawa leaves Animal Shelter, sans bags and crowded by blushing old women, waving adoringly upon his departure.  
_ _4:36 PM: Chiyo Tsutomi realizes that she is the scum of the earth, and a stalker to boot._

The leather of the steering wheel felt cool against my forehead, hiding my shameful face.

I had followed Aizawa, assuming he was headed to some ritzy penthouse palace of a home, only to find he was as generous with money as he was with insults. I began to gently beat my head against said steering wheel. What if he had noticed me? How would I casually explain, ' _Sorry, I was struck by the urge to follow you, so I did. But, good news! You're actually a way better person than me, so congratulations!'_?

I carefully entered the flow of traffic, sure to travel in the _opposite_ direction of my once-mark.

 _If I was so wrong about Aizawa, does that mean he was right about me?_

I swallowed and tried to push the thought away. Maybe drinking wasn't a bad idea. At the very least, I could erase this memory from my mind...At least temporarily.

Feeling undeserving of a reward I headed towards home rather than the mall, still fretting over the frightening instability of my ethical and moral compasses and what outfit to wear tonight.

* * *

 _Meet us at Gemu Ni, 9:45  
_ _:-)_

 _Toshi_

I didn't know which was more bizarre; the fact that I was standing, immaculately uncomfortable and alone, in a bar filled with half-inebriated adults of various shapes, genders, and ages, sloshing drinks and screaming at the many vintage arcade games throughout the establishment, or the fact that Toshinori had made a smiley-face emoticon rather than just using an emoji.

Music beat like drumsticks against my skull, ingraining the rhythm into my bones. The song was a catchy one, interlacing Japanese with English, and there always seemed to be a steady buzz of people sing-shouting along, mumbling the non-lyrical melody during the English portions. I was relieved to see no karaoke station in sight.

Between the loud music, abundant amount of people, and flashing lights and sounds of the arcade games, I felt exposed. My palace was darkened apartments and a purring cat in my lap, not people my age and extrovertedness. I'd taken the time to straighten my hair and stepped out of my comfort zone with a low-cut silk camisole, compensated in scantiness by dark skinny jeans. My arms kept crossing over my chest, unconsciously protective. _Did I get here too early? Should I get a drink? If I leave, will they think I'm a flake?_

"Hey,"

I turned, only to find a man I'd never seen before in my life. Mom's courses on _How to Find an Adult and Other Safety Precautions_ arose like incessant thought-clouds which I brushed away quickly. _We're in a very crowded place. There's nothing to be scared of._

"Name's Kato. I couldn't help but notice you from across the room," His voice was casual. I discreetly submersed myself into his body, noticing his heart rate was indeed average-paced. Calm. I tried to follow suit, shaking off my fear and bubbling nerves. I could do this; I could be that girl, the one people approached, wanted to talk to. I could be the one who laughs and engages in flirting and witty banter.

"Yeah?"  
 _Jesus Christ, Chiyo. What a conversationalist._

"Yeah,"  
 _That makes two of us, I guess._

He looked at me expectantly. My eyes swiveled, looking for an answer to his unasked, unfathomable anticipation, wishing more and more I'd just stayed home. The best American sitcoms usually started their reruns soon, and I'd just started getting used to the fast-paced subtitle reading one had to learn in order to fully enjoy the slapstick punchlines.

"You have beautiful eyes,"

"Oh! Um, thanks." I took a breath; I could do this. I could be interesting. _Engaging._ "I'm having trouble adjusting to the light? Did you know your pupils aren't black, like, dots, but _holes_? So when you're exposed to darkness or, say, blindingly bright-colored dance lights, the pain you feel is actually those holes widening or shrinking to allow more or less light in. Isn't that so freaky to think about?"

I'd clearly lost this guy. Apparently he found me attractive, but not attractive enough to entertain the baffling mechanics of the body, interest roaming the room for a better candidate to escape to. Had he even heard anything I'd said anyway? The last song bled into another, just as vociferous as its predecessor. Eyes glazed and head nodding in that very obvious, unlistening sort of way, he at least had the decency to wait until I'd finished to ask, "Want to dance?"

"What? Oh, no. Sorry."

"So you're just going to awkwardly stand here alone?"

"I mean, probably," I replied, spirits falling to the scuffed wooden floorboards. He raised his eyebrows, downing the rest of his beer, and I wondered if anyone nearby had a marker I could use to write a giant _zero_ on my forehead with.

 _Why. Am. I. Here._

"No offense, but you're one of the weirdest fucking girls I've met in a long ass time,"

I couldn't even think of a response.  
Luckily, I didn't have to.

" _Weird is just the simple-mindeds' word for daringly different, uniquely delicious, and otherworldly in nature,"_

An arm slumped across my shoulder, pulling me in. _Hello again,_ I thought, face mashing into the soft, pliable side of Nemuri Kayama's breasts. Her night-out clothes were, if possible, more shocking than her hero costume, with nearly more skin showing than an exotic dancer. Fingers curled into my shoulder, protective, squeezing out some of my embarrassment to pour in assurance instead. She was staring down the now wide-eyed Kato man, whose pulsed immediately quickened. I pulled out of his system with a shudder, feeling his blood travel...elsewhere.

"Was your MO to degrade her into feeling like she needed you? _Man_ , that's so weak," Present Mic- _Yamada, just remember his name already_ \- suddenly appeared to our left, gestures wild and disgust exaggerated. The metal gear was gone from his neck but I was sad to see the glasses and cockatiel hair remained. "Step off, dude. Her _real_ friends are here."

At Yamada's words Kato returned to the land of the living, face flushed and curses muttered as he quickly made his getaway. Yamada puffed out his chest, looking impressed with himself, and I applauded.

"Thanks! You guys are life savers,"

"Yes," Yamada began with a cheeky flex, "Yes we are,"

"We almost didn't recognize you, Tsutomi! You look so hot!"

"Huh? Oh, um. Yeah. I don't- dressing like this isn't a norm for me," I admonished, feeling the need to cover up once again. Kayama smirked before taking me by the hand.

"Let's go get drinks- I'll show you how to get them for free,"

Being led between two known professional heroes was both amazing and terrifying. Every eye seemed to raise, at least momentarily, as the two all but slow-motion stalked to the bar, oozing confidence I'd never even dreamed of. _What must it be like, to be admired by so many?_

That, or they were just checking out Kayama. I couldn't really blame them if that was just the case. She was more sensual than any person- female, famous, or otherwise- I'd ever seen, down to the flick of her lashes and shape of her calves.

She handed me a mason jar of unnatural blue, topped with a pink parasol and two ripe cherries. I immediately ate the cherries, ignoring the way Yamada teased my childish behavior. Kayama had a matching drink (or, did; it was gone before I'd even taken the first sip of my own) while Yamada sipped a soda-laced beverage, bubbling and shiny under the lights. I didn't know how long we would be out, but knew they would surely be able to hold their liquor better than myself. I raised my glass and drank through the straw, focusing on separating the liquids traveling up the straw to sip only the fruity syrup and soda. _What they won't know won't hurt them, anyway._

"Where's Toshinori?" I nearly had to shout; had they turned the music up? Kayama shrugged, straw tucked between her red lips.

"He's probably having a mental breakdown, trying to decide what to wear,"

"Really? His clothes always look so...I mean, I didn't realize he cared about stuff like that,"

"Oh, he doesn't. Usually, anyway," Kayama's eyes went dark and glittering. I reflexively leaned away, not wanting to hear any sinister secrets about my sweet friend just quite yet. Quickly, I downed the rest of my drink, afraid she'd comment if I didn't, and took her by the hand. Yamada had already disappeared into the growing, dancing crowd, and I intended to follow suit.

"Dance with me,"

"I thought you'd never ask," She purred.

I realized my drinking mistake as soon as we started to move. The world tilted for the smallest fraction of a second, legs wobbling, before I caught myself. Whatever liquor had been in that drink, I'd virtually just taken a straight shot of. _Live and learn, I guess._

Yamada may be the master of speech, but he proved a fool on the dance floor. A ring of wary dancers moved around him, rightfully fearful of the swinging arms and out-of-sync girations of the blonde. Yamada seemed oblivious to everything but his own moves to the music. My attention was swiftly pulled away and to the serpentine woman I'd chosen to dance with, ample body molding against mine. My vision momentarily swam, colors like a kaleidoscope. Nothing could be done about my already-buzzed brain, so I surrendered to the loving arms of Midnight. Hands grabbed my waist and led my movements, ears catching calls of praise as I caught the rhythm of her body.

We took a breather, drinks topped off and haziness growing. Kayama only needed to look in a man's direction and suddenly drinks were everywhere. In a similar fashion, Yamada could get a line of shots just by using his quirk to shout out a " _How's everyone doing?"_ Fully liquored and needing a break, we at last checked out the plethora of machines strewn about the room. Turned out the games were free and we took turns embarrassing Yamada at racing and hunting games alike, destroying his inflated self esteem along the way.

On my first drink, I was ditzy. By my second drink, I was already halfway gone. My smiles were quick, laughter faster, and I could barely contain myself when a slender, absurdly tall figure appeared. I squealed, throwing myself in his arms.

"Where the hell have you been?" I shouted, play-punching his shoulder. Toshinori rubbed his arm as if wounded. Was his face always so red? Were the drinks blurring my lines of reality? I tried not to giggle, realizing my lost consciousness would most assuredly _not_ be funny, and vowed not to have another drink.

"Work stuff. I'm going to get a drink; do you want one?"

"Yes, please!" I cheered.

He returned with matching glasses; both of which were downed quickly.

"Want to dance?" I heard myself ask.

"I'm not really a dancer," Toshinori admitted. My body seemed far away, like my mind was watching everything from a television screen, as I took his hand, trying to mirror Midnight's allure.

"Maybe you just haven't been dancing with the right person,"

He was awkward; all knees and elbows, red-cheeked and nervous. By divine grace a dance anthem came on and I screamed, flailing in harmony with the tide of sweaty, drunk dancers. The erratic, pointless movements were something Toshinori could evidently follow as he too began to bounce, fist in the air.

All of my problems, from student loans to the incensed, hot face of Shota Aizawa, dissipated as I let go, experiencing nothing more than the symbiotic relationship between myself and the music.  
 _Wait, hot?_

A hand on my arm brought my attention to earth. I smiled at my tall, skinny friend, grabbing hold of his arms as well.

"I'm so glad Aizawa isn't here!"

"Yeah?" Toshinori laughed. I nodded furiously. The action wavered my balance but Toshi caught me, hands tentative before quickly pulling away.

"He's the epitome of killjoy. Seeing his face every morning is worse than period cramps. I _do_ wish someone else was here, though,"

"Oh? Who?"

My face felt like I'd stuffed it into an oven. The real me, sitting in that far away place, screamed into the void, demanding I shut up immediately.  
Good thing she was on _mute._

"I just- it'd be really amazing, you know? If All Might suddenly showed up."

Toshinori lost the beat of the new song. I pouted, moving closer and taking his hips like Kayama had done to mine centuries ago. My neck felt close to snapping just to see his face above mine, hair falling across the arm Toshinori awkwardly placed around the small of my back. " _You are so tall!_ "

"Why would you want All Might to show up?"

"I've told you before; he's delicious. He's the only hero my mom every let me look up to." I swayed to the new, slower melody. My balance was consistently maintained by Toshinori's touch, gently prodding me whenever I started to lean too far one way or another. My face grew dreamy. "When I was younger, I swore to myself I was going to marry him. Then mom'd never have to worry again,"

"Worry about what?"

"About me! About my safety. About ever being harmed by someone's quirk, or having my heart broken. He's the strongest man in the world, but more importantly, he's the most _genuine_. I've watched him, the way he talks about his job, the people he saves," I sighed, resting my head against the bottom of Toshinori's rib cage. His heart was lost in the cacophony of our surroundings but his body stilled, lightning-struck, before melting back into mine. Lips pulled on their own, moved by his purity.

"He's not why I applied to UA, but when I saw him at my interview, I wondered if it was a sign. Then I remembered what a clumsy, scatter-brained idiot I am, and how I'd never stand a chance in hell,"

My laughter was loud and wild; free in a way I could never be sober. My skeletal friend, though, was abnormally silent. I pulled away in confusion. His face was unreadable, though because my state of mind or his own hidden internal feelings, I wasn't sure. I tried to calm down, lips twitching with the effort.

"I don't think those things about you," He said quietly. My heart burst, punch drunk.

"I'm glad. At least I have you, Toshinori."

Something crossed his face again. I pulled away further, using his hand to twirl me in a small circle. My laughter proved infectious and a smile simmered on his long face. _Good_ , I thought. _His unhappiness is like rain on a Saturday morning._

"Oh- Hey," A phone appeared out of his pocket, screen glowing as he read a text. His fingers shot a response before he grinned down at me, snapping the device shut.

"I have to go- work-related business, again. I hope you have a great rest of your night, Chiyo. And don't forget to call a cab! Do _not_ walk home."

I let out a tremendous whine, wanting nothing more than for him to stay. Toshinori shook his head, smiling, making eye contact with Yamada across the room and waving him over. Kayama was nowhere in sight and I absently wondered if she was the type to lure men home with her.

"Sick moves, Chi-Chan!" Present Mic declared, shimmying in my direction. I laughed.

"I could teach you some! It might help your reputation!"

"Ouch! How you wound me,"He exclaimed, holding a clenched hand to his chest. I shook my head. Everything seemed more vibrant now, colors and people blurred on the edges but beautiful, like the world on a merry-go-round.

"One more song, and then I've gotta head out," I pledged. Yamada gave me a thumbs up, jiving his way towards the speakers. Sweat was dripping down my spine, shirt sticking like flypaper to my skin, and I wished I'd worn shorts or a skirt rather than my stupid, tight bluejeans. My face felt damp, make-up itching, and I was almost completely out of breath.

The first few words to my favorite song came on. Every ailment fled like a getaway car.

Kayama didn't need to lead my body as it pulsed, arms raising, pulled by the words.  
I turned, dazed, moved by the lyrics.

A broad, shadowed figure was abnormally walking, rather than swaying, in my direction.

Blonde hair. Granite jaw. Muscles cut like diamond.  
Everything inside me froze.  
Even half-drunk, I would've recognized that face anywhere.  
He stopped in front of me, the man of my teenage dreams.  
Starry-eyed and blissful, mouth slow to smile. My tipsy head tilted.

"Are you...real?"

"You can pinch me, if that'd help,"

I was joking with All Might. All Might had just jokingly gave me permission to _touch_ him.

I blinked stupidly, basking in his golden light. A smile twitched his lips.

"Awfully tragic song," He commented.

"Only if you want it to be," I responded, used to such an opinion concerning the dark-soul songstress's lyrics. She'd gotten me through high school, feeding my hungry, angsty soul like no friend or novel ever could. Feeling comfortable in a topic I was well-versed in- even, apparently, half-drunk- I was able to ease into a calmed state. A hand appeared and I took it, fingers cool within his.  
I barely came to his ribcage. He was all but radiating heat, as if that golden light he emitted was tangible, blood quick in his long veins. It swirled, pumped doubtlessly by a massive heart, stronger than a rapid's current. The flow was interrupted in one area and foggily I reached for it with my mind's eye, wondering what caused such an abnormality. _Was he constructed differently than us? If feels as if it's damaging him._

My half-baked thoughts dissolved as a muscular arm gently wrapped around my waist. My hair fell across his skin like a glossy sheet; the only cover he seemed to have against our surroundings.

"People are looking at you," I noticed with a taste of sudden self-consciousness. Eyes were attuned to our every breath, glued to our movements. Our bodies were practically one in the same as he cradled me, delicately, to him, more protective than even Midnight had been. With normal clothing and around tipsy civilians he still couldn't hide; that tall, golden hair, his towering height, gave him away every time.

 _Almost as tall,_ my brain processed, sluggish, _as Toshinori_.

His chuckle pulled my brain upright, refocusing on the handsome face suspended above mine.

"No," He answered, smile warm and voice soft, "They're looking at you,"

By association, I suddenly recalled the uncomfortableness of my body coated in make-up and sweat. His grip was unyielding as I flinched in response, face warming. His head shook slowly.

"You look beautiful; stop overthinking."

I relaxed into him like one does in bed at the end of a long day. He was so _warm._ Like Nasu's fur after lying in the window sill all afternoon. I could bask in it for two lifetimes over. The song swelled with its final chorus and I wished desperately for an eternity more of this, of slow dancing with the most noble hero in the world and just _being_.

The song faded, like Cinderella's clock striking twelve. I sighed, blissful.

"I should probably go,"

"Going to turn into a pumpkin soon? Please, allow me to walk you out to your carriage,"

I laughed, surprised by the connected reference. He blushed at the sound and in that moment my mind was filled with another face, similar in color and sweetness.

"Thank you. For coming, I mean. And please thank Toshinori, too," All Might looked surprised and my smile grew wry, pulling away, holding his large hands in mine. "I know he asked you to come. He's too good a person to say so, but I know he left to go call you,"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," All Might answered dubiously.  
The night air was cooled, relieving my burning skin. I sighed into it, watching as the most chivalrous hero hurried near the road to hail a taxi. He returned, triumphant, and I allotted him a small round of applause.

"I'll see you around school," His voice was deep but soft. I nodded, stepping closer one final time.

"I hope you have a good night. Don't forget to thank Toshinori for me, and give him this," Even on tiptoe I was nowhere near my target. I grabbed his shirt and gently brought his face down to my level, pressing my lips against the farthest edge of his mouth. His entire body grew still, and then glowed red. I laughed, letting my fingers roam down the bones of his jaw as I pulled away.

I'd started this night anxious, fearful, and self conscious, and ended it calm and blissful, tumbling into a waiting taxi, world's greatest hero watching me with a blush on his face. _Is this how Cinderella really felt, leaving the dance of her dreams?_

"Good night," I waved from the window, feeling suddenly forlorn. _When will I see him again?_ He started, regaining his posture at last, and raised a hand of his own, words just reaching me as the taxi pulled away.

"Good night...Chiyo,"


	11. Chapter Eleven

**A/N** \- I wish I could explain how excruciating it is to not just write Notebook-level, gushing love chapters about my O(C)TP, but if I did I _know_ it'd be uninteresting garbage fluff. So, here we are. Is it coincidence I mention my pain on this specific chapter? Who knows!  
I was thinking about a back-to-back day posting depending on the feedback, so we'll see what happens!

* * *

Saturday morning was the bane of last night's existence, merging dream and reality into a nauseating swirl of headache and amnesia. Rather than vomiting everywhere like I might've in my teenage years, I realized I could put my quirk to a good, terrifying use: by separating the remnants of alcohol from my blood in a mildly painful, sickening way, the nausea dissipated almost as quickly as it had arrived.  
Now I understood what Tsu had meant about "disgusting but useful quirk aspects".  
Skin was made to be water resistant; I couldn't just pull the poison out, so I had to find other...methods.

Clear-headed and mildly amnesiatic from last night's events, I was able to meet up with Mom for our regular morning run, though visions of an all mighty prince charming, holding me close, kept swirling in my memory.  
 _Did that- Was that...real?  
_ I remembered arriving early and consequently being saved by Kayama and Yamada, the hero-vixen's hands on my hips, the laughter and music. I remembered dancing with Toshinori, mostly, his warm smile still in my eyes.  
But the last part- the fantasy of kissing All Might; was that just a drunken, feverish dream? More importantly; did I care if it _was_?

 _At least it was beautiful while it lasted._

Rather than alerting my mother of last night's misadventures and the confusing tale of my love life, I was instead relaying strong emotions concerning a different mysterious man; the easiest choice and distraction from last night's maybe-reality.

"He _hates_ me,"

"I feel like you're probably exaggerating-"

"He glares whenever I accidentally look in his direction, scoffs, and the other day he pretty much let the door slam in my face; I dropped all of my essays and spent ten minutes just putting them back in order-"

"Well, maybe he's just childish and has a little crush on you,"

I let out a barking laugh that quickly devolved into a pant. Mom paused, jogging in place and turning to watch me with poorly hidden amusement. It was a cloudless morning and the sun felt just as relentless as my mother's badgering. "That's how little Haru acted when he liked you,"

"That was fourth year!" I exclaimed, exasperated. Mom rolled her eyes.

"As if men change all that much."

 _She probably just likes him because he can cancel quirks._ I realized grimly. It was frightening how much more information she'd gleaned from the internet than myself. I hadn't even had to tell her about the awe-inspiring professional heroes I now worked with- she knew everything, down to most of their favorite foods and weight- without me uttering a single word.  
I didn't know what was more terrifying: her dedication or that the internet actually _contained_ information like that.  
Weren't old people supposed to be bad with technology? Was I just really _worse_ than the average person? Anxiety slid down my bones as the thoughts kept building: _What if I'm not utilizing technology enough in the classroom? Should I be assigning more work online rather than handwritten? I don't remember Principal Nezu mentioning his personal preference; would this reflect poorly in his eyes? I wonder how much the other teachers do-_

A cool hand lifted my chin and brought me back to the present moment. The spiral was in its genesis but my heart was already thumping, breath quick and shortened. Mom had finally stopped her pacing, silhouetted by the sun and smiling so tenderly that the panic attack fled away in a rush, weak in her presence. The light resembled a halo around her dark hair and I was suddenly swept in by the unconditional love she radiated. My nerves warmed, as pliable as children's play doh, fears drifting away.

"You're such a dunce," Mom commented. My head fell again.

So much for an endearing moment.

I heaved myself to my feet and we were off once more, taking up the majority of the sidewalk.  
I'd shared every second concerning working at UA during breakfast and now our exercise route, each moment as memorable as the next. I confessed my mild guilt about the close connections I'd already made with some students (Tsu, Midoriya, and Momo, namely) and the general distaste I had for other UA members (Aizawa and Aoyama for various, specific reasons), but certainly it was natural to hold these sentiments...right? So long as I showed no bias towards anyone I was safe but _damn_ , it was so _hard_ sometimes.

"Chiyo-"

" _If you're better than others or have a quirk that's powerful, you use it. Otherwise you're just as pathetic as the rest of them."_

Bakugo's words had been rattling around in my brain all week. The following lesson Todoroki had indeed explained his reasoning (after constant and vigorous prompting by Bakugo), leading to the majority of the class agreeing with his position. The ash-blonde firecracker went disdainfully quiet after and since then had spoken very little except to dole out a few smart remarks. By the end of the week I'd started to unlock his angsty-boy brain, gaining access to a breakable voice and reddened features, but his point still felt unnaturally personal.

" _Otherwise you're just as pathetic as the rest of them."_

"Chiyo-"

I sincerely doubted my opinion on quirks could be changed by a pack of students, but I couldn't deny how his words had infected my mind. Was I weak for not openly using my quirk? Would it help anything- anyone? In the past, my answer would always have been a resounding _no_. But now, seeing my hopeful students and listening to their ambitions, _feeling_ their resolve-

" _ **Chiyo**_ **!** "

Too late; I looked up just as my body crashed into something rock hard. I bounced like a racket ball against solid brick, breath leaving in a gasp as gravity descended my whole.  
My cranium went to burst like a watermelon on the sidewalk before a hand stopped its momentum, cradling my damp, flyaway hair, fingers spread and molded to the shape of my skull, the connected arm against the curve of my spine. The other hand of my rock-savior was gentle on my side and I gripped the attached forearm, trying to help catch my dumbstruck body.

 _Why are you such an idiotic clutz?_ My brain all but shouted, doing nothing to help clear the stars in front of my eyes. My body was slack, fully supported by something- or someone- else. I gasped another breath, the first I'd breathed since my fall, coherency mildly returned as I looked up to the one holding me.

He was in a loose white t-shirt but I could see and feel the muscles underneath, the toned tendons in the arms holding on to my body. Black hair was fixed somewhere between a ponytail and a bun, brushed off his off-pallor, serious face.

Scratch that- not serious. Mostly, he just looked tired. Dilated blood vessels were apparent in the corners of his slightly-widened eyes, as if sleep had never been anything more than a distant memory. His mouth, nestled between two defined jaw bones sprinkled with dark, sparse facial hair, was parted, perhaps just as surprised as I was that this impeccably hot, physically-fit man was holding a clumsy jackass such as myself in the middle of a public park, intimately gazing at one another without exchanging a single word.

In Gestalt psychology, the main principle consists of the mind being able to perceive ideas and images based on their _whole_ , rather than the sum of their parts.  
My mind, being nearly caved in by the cement, was slow in putting the picture together, only until the last second recognizing this once-hidden face.

A slow, crooked smile just barely graced his lips, crinkled his eyes, and I felt my heart beat for the first time in centuries.

"We've really got to stop meeting like this."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Her body was soft in his arms.  
The smooth curve of her spine to the nape of her fragile neck, the peach skin of her arms, her chest. She was nowhere near fit- all of her body parts were cushioned by the remnants of baby fat, but she was...little. Petite. Like a fluttering little bird.

Or, rather, a wide-eyed, dumbstruck fawn.  
 _I really need to stop with the animal analogies._

Instead, Shota Aizawa turned to another mystifying thought.

What were the odds- of all the parks, of _all_ the times and places to be, that she, of the thousands of people in the same city, would come crashing into him again? _Literally?_

Her mouth, full and dastardly pink, was agape, mirroring the shock in the rest of her features. She looked so ridiculously stupid that Aizawa couldn't help but smile, even just a little.

"We've really got to stop meeting like this," Came his casual comment. Color bloomed in her cheeks- the first reaction displayed since her fall. She kept staring, gaping like a dumb little fish, and, surprisingly, Aizawa held her gaze, enjoying the moment.

" _Chiyo-_ Chiyo! Honey, are you okay?"  
A woman, significantly taller than the woman in his arms, was approaching at a quickened pace, face drawn in an image of motherly concern. She was donning black yoga pants and a grey top, sports bra purposely apparent underneath. The slight wrinkles near her eyes and journeying into her top were glistening with sweat, as if she'd been jogging prior to witnessing the event before her.  
Glancing down, Aizawa realized Chiyo was wearing the exact same outfit, sans aging signs. The little smile from before was growing all on its own as horror etched itself into Chiyo's face.

"Oh my god," She breathed, expression severe as she looked anywhere but him and the approaching woman- her mother, by his guess. Chiyo appeared to be trying to evaporate out of the situation, shrinking into him and away from her mom on reflex. Aizawa marveled if her quirk- or any- were capable of such a thing. The face before his was snatched by swift, demanding hands, turning the daughter's face every which way. If possible, Chiyo darkened several shades, trying to swat the hand away.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt your head?" Her voice was panicked.  
"I'm fine, mom," Chiyo answered quietly. Angry brown eyes turned suddenly to Aizawa.  
"If you harmed her in any way, I'll see to it that-"  
"I ran into _him_ , mom, _please_ -"

"Excuse me," The deep voice surprised both women, attracting their undivided attention. Chiyo's eyes drank him in and he shifted, unused to the way she was currently watching him, the way her body felt against his. Gently he helped her stand on her own, turning to give a slight bow of the head to her mother. Chiyo moved away quickly, still very obviously embarrassed, and that strange, amused feeling continued to warm Aizawa's throat.

"I am Shota Aizawa. It's a pleasure to meet you," He introduced formally.

Mrs. Tsutomi squinted.

"His hair's just up, mom. It's him," Chiyo mumbled into her shoulder. She was trying desperately hard not to look at him, face still red as a cherry. "Aizawa, this is my mother, Mrs. Tsutomi,"

The middle-aged woman still didn't seem convinced. Aizawa wondered if he should activate his quirk as evidence, then realized Chiyo's distaste for said powers probably stemmed from this familial root. He thought of speaking of UA or his professional career as proof instead, just as a firm hand suddenly gripped his jaw and pulled him forward.

" _Mom,"_ Chiyo hissed, clearly horrified as her mother physically assaulted a professional hero. She was nervously scratching at her wrist, looking as if she wanted to intervene but, probably from years of experience, knew it impossible to stop the hellbent woman. Mrs. Tsutomi scrutinized his passive face before at last nodding, releasing him.

"Mmm. Red eyes. Bored, vacant expression. Black hair. I believe you, Mr. Aizawa," Mrs. Tsutomi affirmed, as if someone had told her differently. She smiled, suddenly peevish. "Are you telling me you've been hiding all that handsome under that scraggly hair all this time?"

"Oh my _god._ " Chiyo hid behind her hands and for the first time in a while, Aizawa felt a sprig of embarrassment branch through his chest. He released something caught between a cough and a laugh, rubbing his neck. Apparently, however, Mrs. Tsutomi wasn't finished with him.

"Were you ears burning or something? We were just talking about you,"

" _Mom_ ," Chiyo pleaded, grabbing her hand and trying to pull her away. It was interesting, watching the ever-calm Tsutomi from school act like a humming bundle of nerves, completely _not_ in control of her expressions or emotions. She'd lost her cool yesterday, sure, but this was a new side entirely. One he might even prefer. _All this time, has she only been stone cold around me?_

"It was nice seeing you, Mr. Aizawa, but we really need to get back on schedule-"

"Oh?" Aizawa interrupted, engaging with her mother. He knew his behavior to UA's newest teacher hadn't been the most respectful, but he hadn't really expected her to mention it to others. Even now she seemed ready to disappear from Japan altogether over having this conversation unfold. Mrs. Tsutomi yanked her hand away from Chiyo, not even glancing back before throwing her daughter under the bus.

"She said she thinks you hate her. Not that I know why, as she won't give me very concrete details." The elder Tsutomi placed her hands on her hips, humorless. "So, what is it? Because she's a woman? Because she isn't like you professional heroes, risking her neck every single day? Or is it because she simply looks like an easy target? Is that the kind of man you _really_ are, Shota Aizawa?"

Anger. Indignance.  
These were natural, logical emotional responses to this woman's bold words.  
Instead Aizawa only felt guilt.

 _Is that the kind of man you are?_

"Mom, let's just go," Chiyo said quietly. A new resolve had raised her shoulders and she turned, facing away. She didn't reach for her mother, whose eyes were still ablaze on Aizawa, but walked on her own, out of the situation she clearly hadn't wanted to be a part of from the beginning.

 _Is this the kind of man you really are?_

"Wait, Tsutomi-" His body moved on instinct, stalling her exit with the simple physical contact of catching her hand.  
Her face turned to their connected skin and then his face, and he was struck again by the clearness of her eyes, the lingering chubbiness of her cheeks. Wisps of hair were caught on her forehead, the sides of her face. One particular piece had caught the corner of her mouth. Aizawa fought the urge to brush it aside.

"Can I- May I speak with you, privately?"

Chiyo looked as if he'd asked for a kidney. She glanced at her mom who jumped to life, rushing by as if swept up on a high wind, waving cheerfully as she hustled off. In just moments she was totally out of sight, leaving the couple seemingly alone in the lush park. Chiyo looked up at him again, eyes just a fraction wider. Aizawa cleared his suddenly-dry throat.

"I attempted a few days ago to apologize but was interrupted by the final bell and never found another opportunity to mention my shitty behavior. Or, rather, I didn't try to. My actions towards you have been far under UA's standard and were uncalled for. I was having a shitty day and took it out on you, and I apologize for that."

"What made it so shitty?"  
"Er, what?"

"Why was your day so shitty?" She asked, beginning to leisurely walk down the path her mother had fled down. Aizawa was prodded along, having failed to relinquish her fingers from before. Now aware, he released her, something inside quietly wanting the opposite. He suppressed that feeling immediately, burying it under deep layers of sensibility and exhaustion.

"Tiredness. The prospect of teaching high schoolers complicated subjects like decoherence and quantum entanglement. Physics. The annoying, placid drone of a new teacher's voice roaming into my safe space. You know, the normal."

* * *

 _Is he..._ _ **mocking**_ _me?_

I looked up in surprise only to find him watching me, a side of his mouth bent. I stared on incredulously.

 _Is he..._ _ **teasing**_ _me?_

We were walking, side by side, on a sunny Saturday morning, alone.  
Outside of school.  
No obligations, no forced pleasantries.

 _Is this a dream? Am I actually still at home, waiting for Nasu's demanding yeowls to wake me up?_ I pinched myself just in case, noting the too-real pain. Shota Aizawa was watching me strangely, hair sliding across his forehead with the movement. Somehow, he didn't seem as intimidating in "normal" clothing. The thick bands of material weren't snaked around his neck; just a simple outfit of soft greys, revealing long, pale arms and legs.

 _Mom was right. He really is hot._  
I pinched myself again; this time as punishment for such a thought.

"So. Do you come here often? What do you even call what you're doing?" Aizawa asked with a haphazard gesture towards my clothing. I glanced down and shrugged.  
"We go running on Saturday mornings."  
"Just Saturday?"  
"Yeah. Why?"  
"You aren't going to lose any weight running just once a week."

 _Ah, there's the Aizawa I know._

"I don't recall saying that was the purpose- what are you trying to insinuate?"  
"Hey, look."

"Don't try and change the subject-" I began. My words staggered like skipping rocks as Aizawa turned and pointed at my left forearm. I stopped and glanced down, only to catch the final act of a monstrous mosquito taking flight from my skin. I'd felt a tug in my system so minuscule I hadn't reacted. A large, angry welt was already giving rise, itching imminent. I heaved a mighty groan. It was nearly fall- shouldn't all the bugs be _dead_ by this time in the season?

"Here," Aizawa commented and, taking my arm with both hands, met the bite halfway by leaning in. I staggered, completely taken aback, as he placed his lips against my skin, the feel of his wet tongue sending shivers down my spine and creating a vortex where my stomach once was.

"Wh-What are you doing?" The voice that left me was as high as my mind, completely betraying any calm aura I could've given off. _If someone makes you uncomfortable, leave immediately,_ mom's nagging warning suddenly suggested. I felt the usual prickle of downy hair rise across my nape. Two dark eyes watched me before returning to my arm, giving one gentle suck before pulling away. Carefully, he wiped the area with one slow thumb and blew cool air against the pinked incline.

"Menthol is a cooling agent and found in most toothpastes. I brushed my teeth right before I came here," Aizawa explained as if this were common knowledge, lowering his mouth to my arm again and bursting every butterfly-filled balloon in my chest.  
"Hey, did you know a mosquito's bite is done by six needle-like pieces? There's two sharp scalpels and two tubes that hold your skin open while the other two pieces insert and probe around looking for a vein. So it's not just the long 'mosquito nose'- it's six individual needles going into your skin. Isn't that fucking insane?"

He was rambling, almost to himself, blowing on my arm between sentences and rubbing my once-wound. _Is this what I sounded like last night?_

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Sorry," I was probably gazing up like some lovesick puppy, based on the disturbed quality tickling his scruffed face.  
It was just nice- refreshing even, to know there was at least one other person out there who shared bizarre information with others and were actually _interested_ in it.

"Did you know only the female mosquito feasts on blood? The males live off plant nectars,"  
"Typical women," Aizawa flatly responded. He released my arm and I smiled stupidly.  
"What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Speaking of frightening women," Aizawa changed the subject smoothly, nodding forward. Mom's familiar shape was on the horizon; she'd seen someone she knew and was now chatting ninety to nothing, expression lively. _Probably asking about their last physical exam or something equally uncomfortable._ I laughed awkwardly, not denying his adjective usage.  
Aizawa, even though she'd certainly put him through the ringer, had been abundantly polite to mom. It was kind of... _attractive._

"She's my best friend. I know she can be a lot to handle, but she's the best human being I've ever met," I answered truthfully. Just as I poured out my love for her greatness, mom pinched the hanging skin of the old woman's arm she was speaking to, giving it an over exaggerated jiggle. I nearly fell on my face in embarrassment.

"Scratch that: she's an excessive amount to handle,"

The tall frame of the aloof hero bent and he let out another scoffing chuckle, looking ahead as he answered, "She seems to care for you greatly, though. I commend her for that,"

"Because it's such a hard thing to do, caring about me?" I responded jokingly, nearly choking on my awkward stupidness.  
 _Why would you say that? Why the_ _ **hell**_ _would you ask something like that?_ Horror probably colored every ounce of my skin and an involuntary spasm nearly made me twist my ankle off. I considered running away from the situation I'd just created.  
 _Maybe he'll see me as some enigma, leaving a teasing, devil-may-care question to reflect on as I leave him in the dust._

I put pressure on my ankle and immediately tripped over a raised block of cement, doing an idiotic shuffle to avoid breaking every tooth in my idiot face. A strong hand caught my arm, reinforcing my balance, and again I wished I could just evaporate right out of existence. I dared to peek through my escaping hair at the once-so-grouchy man of my nightmares, wondering how I ever got myself in these situations.

That small half-smile was licking his face again, and my heart beat in unconscious triumph.

 _Stop it, stop it right now. Get your shit together, Chiyo. You've already met the love of your life, remember? He showed up and literally swept you off your feet last night?...I think, anyway._

"You're something else, you know that?" His voice was nearly laughing. _Be still my heart._ " It's probably not hard to care for you, but _taking_ care of you must be an entirely different story,"  
I sniffed.  
"I have no idea what you mean."

"Mmm," Aizawa hummed. We began walking once again; this time, I was careful to watch the trail before us. "This is what, the third time you've fallen in the span of a week? Your emotional states are sporadic, you have a quirk you don't use regardless of its usefulness, you probably don't even own your own washer and dryer-"

"Excuse me?" I cut him off, both verbally and physically, anger flickering in my chest.

"First of all, I don't remember ever saying I didn't use my quirk; secondly, even if it's true that I don't use it, which I'm neither accepting or denying, I don't see how that would make me _difficult_ to care for," I avoided the laundry comment altogether; half of the last load was still in mom's living room, waiting for pick-up.

"Really?" He asked, genuinely surprised.  
"Really."  
"Hmm."

He brushed past me, as if that was enough of a response. I stood my ground, glaring at his back. How could someone go from volcanic hot to arctic cool like that? Was he even _aware_ of his arrogant boldness? "So that's it? Just a _hmm_?"

"Chiyo, think about it," He called over his shoulder, voice unreadable. "In a world of quirks, if you're gifted with one that could save even _one_ life, protect _one_ student, wouldn't it then make you a burden to society, let alone the ones who care for you, to _not_ use it?"

He was strolling away, leisure but steady. The spine leading him was long, as confident as a taut bowstring. The wind caught his shirt and with it he seemed to straighten, at last glancing over his shoulder to meet my eyes. My heart pounced into my throat, though from fear or something else I wasn't sure.  
His eyes were dark, tired, but there was something else there, too. An awareness.  
As if he saw right through me.

"I guess...I'm just not that type of man, the one who's complacent with a burdensome existence just to avoid pain or fear. Not if it means allowing those I care about to be harmed."

He threw a passing wave over his shoulder before starting off in a run, growing in pace the further he went.

The trees swayed in the breeze, birds chirped gaily from their branches. A group of children were shrieking in joy as their kite finally took to the wind, sailing as fast as Shota Aizawa's legs, carrying both away from their corresponding persons.

And there I stood like a statue, frozen and stone-cold, crafted in place for all to witness.

 _Was he right?_

I could feel it, the water of my bones writhing, rebelling against my shape. The buzzing was quiet at first but grew with each impeding thought.

 _All this time, have I...Have I just been a coward?_

It was more complicated than that.

My blood roiled. I had to tell someone, _anyone_ , about my festering dilemma, before my veins strangled the life out of me. Someone kind. Understanding. Someone _other than_ mom.

And I knew exactly who my knight in thoughtful armor was.

I slapped my fist against the other palm, setting the idea in motion.  
For the first time in years, I would discuss what I only expressed in the privacy of my mind, what I tore myself apart over only to realize no one was around to help reassemble the pieces.

 _I'll do it tonight._

Mom had finally noticed my solo status and waved cheerfully. I stretched, tendons like taffy as I rolled my shoulders and took off at a brisk pace.  
I stopped almost immediately, eyes wide with realization and chest thumping once more.

Had Aizawa referred to me as _...Chiyo?_

* * *

" _What kind of man are you?"_

What kind of man was he, indeed.

Chiyo Tsutomi's face had burned itself into his retinas, looking up at him like some vulnerable princess, locked in the tallest tower, naive and weak to the entire world.

But there had been a glimmer, a spark of willpower.  
The burn of her eyes, the licking flame of anger that washed over her and lapped against him. Defiant. Momentarily fearless. Alive.

Shota stopped his back-breaking pace, frame arching as he breathed, hands on the shaking legs that had carried him easily half a mile from where he left her in mere moments. He straightened, allowing the sweat to slide across his temple before brushing it away.

The ice queen wasn't so frosted as he originally thought, but she was still hiding something, locked away in that confusing mind of hers.

Absently, dangerously, he wondered if he'd glimpsed spring through her unguarded eyes.

The once-distant laughter of children was now suddenly too close for comfort. Aizawa turned warily to the cause of the sound before his breath caught, struck by the sight.

A spanse of the park was dedicated to underground fountains, splurting great gushes of water to the abundant pleasure of children every twenty seconds or so. Parents sat on shady benches, towels and snacks readily on hand, as children ran around the rubbered ground, screaming each time the water once again shot out near their feet, soaking their bodies and drenching their hair. This in itself wouldn't have been enough to catch Aizawa's attention, or to cause the level in which the children were squealing.

The water, rather than rushing out of the ground and flying back to earth, was suspended by an invisible force, floating weightlessly.

Children ran through panes of water, thin as glass, creating their own harmless explosions; others collected droplets like falling diamonds, only to throw them back towards the sky.

It was beautiful.

The parents stared oddly on, pleasantly surprised, and Aizawa didn't need to activate his own quirk to realize none of these children were capable or responsible for this crystalline sight.

" _I can...manage water."_

With one final glance he moved on, mind once again returning to the mysterious Chiyo Tsutomi.

Perhaps there was more to her than he realized.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: It's probably a crime to write a chapter this short, but I'm at school and life is hectic and the next chapter is a MAJOR plot-thing, so spare me, please! Remember from last chapter that Chiyo decided she needed to tell someone about her quirk- but who? Thank you tremendously to all the wonderful reviewers; I take everything you guys say to heart!

* * *

This was maybe, probably, an extremely horrible idea.

The dark red of the brick building threw shadows across the road as I stared up, up, up before nervously glancing down again at the sticky note that had grown soft and damp in my palm.

 _510_

There was no elevator obviously present and, surprisingly, the complex seemed open-modeled, with no buzzer or security in sight. I looked up again, noting the side set of stairs spiraling seemingly into the sky, bleak in the foreboding darkness of the cloudy evening.

This was definitely a horrible idea.

After our morning run, mom and I had went out for lunch (like always) and regained every potential ounce of fat lost via cheeseburgers and fries (no regrets) as our routine mandated every weekend, her chatter of Shota Aizawa and his chivalry incessant and abundantly annoying. While I drowned her out with a few well-placed head nods and caffeine-riddled soda, my thoughts kept wandering to the _what ifs_ of my quirk use and stability of my own ethics. _What if_ I couldn't protect my students? _What if_ I ever needed to? Was Aizawa right; had I really just been a coward this whole time?

I had glanced at mom, mind humming like a hive.  
She was still talking ninety to nothing, oblivious or careless as to whether or not I was actually listening. I didn't even have to hear her words- her face and body spoke their own loud language, animated as any Saturday morning cartoon. Her eyes gleamed and I knew, regardless of age, she'd always be able to captivate the dullest of audiences. She'd given me everything, poured every ounce of herself into my existence.

The blood that coursed through my body ran warm and steadily on its own and I breathed freely, determined once more to release the flood of thoughts and secrets to someone outside of myself.

 _Apartment 510_

I knocked three sharp notes and stepped back, decisively watching the door.

Nothing.

With slightly less gusto I knocked again, each rap draining just a little more energy. I turned to leave, abandoning ship, just as the door creaked open.

"Miss Tsutomi?"


	14. Chapter Fourteen

"Tsutomi? I told you to call me Chiyo," I admonished, much to his chagrin. That nervous move of his arm to scratch his shaggy head, the spread of a blush, smooth as butter, across his nervously-smiling face, dispelled any reservations I once held.  
That didn't, however, mean my entire body wasn't still humming like a thousand cicadas.

"Chiyo, why-How did you find out where I live?"  
Oh, good question. _Great, now he's going to think I'm a stalker._

"It was in the school directory. Faculty has access to a lot more information than the students do. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you-" _Holy shit, I look like a total, crazed stalker._ Sweat dampened my forehead as the nerves were replaced with sheer embarrassment; who just _shows up_ at someone's apartment like this? Why didn't I just _call_? A clap of thunder reverberated down the hallway, too close for comfort, and I jumped like a spooked cat. Toshinori's laughter was gentle and a warm hand took hold of my arm, to steady or comfort me I wasn't sure.  
 _Probably to escort me off the premises._

"No harm done. Could you, er, give me a moment? I don't usually have guests,"

"Toshi-chan, are you insinuating your apartment is anything less than immaculate?" I drawled, peering impishly through his open door. A bony chest immediately blocked my view and his reddened skin nearly glowed through his shirt.

"P-Please, just give me a moment to-"

I slithered under his arm, quick as a viper, into his apartment.  
Moments later there was a great _whoosh_ and suddenly I was suspended in the air, snug between two thin arms, before my rear end met the hard cement outside his apartment door.

I blinked.

Toshinori had moved faster than any human I'd witnessed (except, _maybe_ , Iida) and dumped me once more outside.  
I didn't know whether to laugh or be seriously concerned as to the contents of Toshinori Yagi's apartment.  
 _This is the second time I've been held today._ I thought with incredulous amazement. The phantom touch of Shota Aizawa's fingers on my skin suddenly replayed and I shivered despite myself.

He was grouchy and indefinitely cared more about sleep than his own appearance or what people thought of him, but did seem greatly concerned about his students and their betterment. He had been absurdly polite to mom in the face of her personal questioning, and he _had_ saved me from having splattered my brain across the concrete.

 _Plus, turns out his lithe body and serious face could give even All Might a run for his money._

Heat rose in my face. I eased my body down to lie on the cool ground, trying to flush the inappropriate thoughts from my mind. Aizawa may be a little more fine under all that scraggle than I expected, but he was still a bully.

 _He called you Chiyo._

I closed my eyes, willing my brain to mind its own fucking business.

The door beside me slammed open, Toshinori's beanstalk body silhouetted in the soft light pouring out of his now-hopefully-clean apartment. Before I could move he was shouting, clearly alarmed.

" _Crap-Did I harm you? I'm so sorry, I_ -"

He'd knelt down, frantic, assessing my fallen form for injuries. That goofy happiness returned to my veins and I sat up, covering his mouth with both of my hands. His blue eyes widened and I slid my thumbs across his lips, using the force to gather his cheeks together for a loving pinch. Why was Toshinori so lovable and wholesome? Did hanging out with All Might do this to a person? _Note: Have Toshinori introduce me formally to All Might. Gain confidence and sincerity in abundance. Potentially mother his god-like, golden-haired babies._

"I'm fine, you silly man. I was just meditating...Horizontally. Maybe I can teach _you_ sometime; might help those nervous bursts of yours" My voice was teasing and his face was crimson, and I hadn't felt quite so at ease all day. I cupped his face and squeezed one last time before standing, offering him my hands. "Come on, now that you've hidden all your porn, can we go inside?"

" _THAT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT THE CASE! I WAS-I HAD TO-"_

"Do you like exclusively eat frozen pizza or something?" I cut off, already inspecting his freezer. The refrigerator only earned a quick survey, as the majority of the shelves were barren. _No wonder he's a toothpick._ I whipped out a pizza and a random assortment of junk food, quickly assorting an unhealthy buffet of breading, grease, and cheese. Toshinori watched with widened eyes. I ushered for him to sit in the lone chair pushed against a shabby card table. Was this his normal meal place?

"I've got this. I told you, I've made it my new life mission to nurse you into obesity, or the very least chubbiness."

"You're really something else, you know that?" Toshinori laughed. A flashback of Aizawa's smiling face burnt itself into my retinas, sly mouth speaking the very same words, and in turn caused me to drop an entire pan of frozen chicken nuggets. I hurriedly picked up the pieces of my sanity-er, food. _Three second rule, right?  
_ I slid the pan into the oven, set the temp and timer, and swiveled to face Toshinori. He returned the look, curious but friendly. I fiddled with one of the sleeves of my sweater.

"So, what's up?"  
"I ran into Aizawa at the park today. My mom and I did, I mean,"

Toshinori crossed his arms, joviality fading.

"He wasn't his usual jerk self, surprisingly," I quickly informed, head shaking my protest. I eased myself onto the counter, giving a little hop to do so. I noted the smile Toshi tried to fend off at my task, but decided to let it slide.

"So, what was the problem?" His face suddenly turned sinister. "Did he hit on you?"  
"What? No! I mean-I don't-" My hands provided a protective wall, hiding my flushed face.

"He just...He commented on my coldness, and my quirk." My weakened voice muttered through my fingers. There was a shifting sound and then my hands were gently tugged away. Toshinori smiled, now standing to the side of my dangling legs. My neck felt the strain of finding his looming face; even raised by the counter he towered above my stature.

His eyes, usually so haunted by fatigue, were the warmest shade of blue, unwavering on mine.

"I don't think you're cold," He said quietly.

A forgotten coil of fear unwound from my spine at his tone and touch. I turned my palms over, took his hands in mine. I noted their differences and similarities, watching them instead of his face as I spoke.

"I _am_ cold. I have...major trust issues. It's hard for me to let people in; _especially_ people with recognizable quirks."  
It was fractional, but I felt Toshinori stiffen. My eyes found and held his.

"I...don't have a lot of memories from when I was a child. When I think back, I have a few glimmers, but nothing concrete. I _do_ remember how much my mother feared quirks, though she'd never fully tell me why. All of my happiest memories involve my mother. She gave everything up to have me, and so I thought the very least I could do to repay her was to do everything in my power to _not_ worry her."

"Like using your quirk," Toshinori filled in slowly. I nodded, a ghost of a smile hollowing my face.

"When we found out I had a quirk, God, she lost her shit. I was so scared." I laughed at the memory. "She made me _promise_ to never, under any circumstance, use my quirk-"

"Even if it could save a life? Or you own?" His interruption was abrupt, alarmed. Again I nodded.

All my life, this had just been the concrete policy.  
It wasn't until recently that I started to realize there's a reason rules are overturned.

 _But then again, those rules keep you safe._

"Growing up, I was ridiculed...a lot. The majority of people in the world possess quirks and, since I never used mine, kids assumed I just didn't have one. No one is an easier target than a quirkless little nerd," Toshinori opened his mouth, ready to protest, but I held up a hand. "No, I was totally a nerd. My mom was my best friend, I wore stripey knee socks five days out of the week, and talked to all kinds of animals and inanimate objects. I was weird. I accept that."

"Not that weird. Did you know All Might sleeps with a raggedy stuffed teddy bear? Just refers to him as Kuma, " Toshi responded dryly. He sounded almost embarrassed for the guy. I choked on laughter, imagining the symbol of fineness in button-down pajamas and a stocking cap, snuggling a beat-up teddy bear to his rippling pectorals.

Actually, it wasn't a bad image.

Toshinori must have noted my spacey gaze and gently nudged me to continue. I shook myself of the daydream where I replaced the bear with myself and back into the more-grim reality of the past.

"Usually, I could just ignore the insults. It made mom happy and I was a good student, so the teachers were quick to my defense. One day, though, they surrounded me." I shuddered involuntarily and the forgotten hands holding mine gave a gentle squeeze. _Had he always been standing so close to me?_ Even stranger, I felt myself lean towards him, like a magnet to iron.

"There was this girl- isn't there always?- and she was a real piece of work. Looking back, she probably had her own insecurity issues or home problems, but I was alway her punching bag. One day she changed up her routine. For two weeks she was as sweet as taiyaki; she walked with me between classes, sat with me at lunch, and threatened anyone that made fun of me. When she asked to see my quirk, I didn't think twice."

While talking, I had focused on every liquid element in the room. The refrigerator, the ice crystals collected on the ice box and insides of the freezer, the very oils and moisture from Toshinori and I's connected hands. I could feel every ounce of blood running through his veins, feel the gnarled arteries and nerve endings in the side of his chest. _What had caused that?_

A buzzing filled my brain, pulling at wisps of memories, suspended on dust and fog. Why was this ringing some distant bell? Fighting the urge to lift his shirt, see what could only be marred flesh, I allotted my concentration to lifting the liquids all at once, opening our conjoined fingers to display little rising spirals, bright as mercury. Water bubbled out from the sink's tap and floated through the air; fragments of ice, soft as snow, slipped through the seal-lock of the freezer and surrounded us, catching and refracting the kitchen lights in a way that added surreal colors from some scientific phenomenon I couldn't even begin to explain.

Toshinori pulled away, eyes like saucers, mouth open in wonder. He reminded me of the first time we met, how he stood in my classroom with such awe and light. The starry sky of my classroom paled in comparison to this. I thought I'd feel embarrassed, nervous to show off something once so taboo to another person, but when Toshinori turned to me, a grin cracked from ear to ear, all I could feel was warmth.

"This is amazing," He breathed, head shaking lightly, " _You_ are amazing,"

"No," I answered quietly. "My quirk may be, but I'm not."

"How can you say that?" For the first time since I met him, the great sunflower of a man actually seemed upset. He gestured around the room. "Look at this. _You_ did this; you are _doing_ this-"

"My mom was so uncomfortable with me being friends with Manami, but I finally had a _friend._ A friend _my_ age, not just some pitying teacher or babysitter," I continued on, ignoring his protests, eyes falling from his light face, voice dropping with the shame and regret I'd carried for over a decade now. "I was so desperate for her attention that when she asked me to show her friends what I could do, I did. I ignored everything my mom had ever told me and astounded the circle of Manami's friends with my quirk."

"And then?"

"And then she showed me hers."

I drew the liquids to me, feeling each vibrating droplet, recalling the all-too-visceral pain of that day. My waning strength was reflected in my quirk as the water shook, as unnerved as my voice.

"Do you know what happens, when five hundred volts of electricity strike water and a connected ten year old's body?"

The water dropped with my depleted mental and quirk stability. A mild downcast soaked Toshinori Yagi's linoleum kitchen floor, bouncing a bit as it lost its once-form. I held up my hands.

Quakes, beginning from my elbows, trembled down to my fingertips, like restless trees in a breeze. Every few seconds a finger would twitch a little harder than the others, a shoulder would jump just slightly, a calf would tense and relax.

The actions were minuscule; like a gently vibrating washing machine, but endless.

Maddening.

"The truth is, I _do_ use my quirk, almost constantly. The electrical shock that coursed through my body that day damaged my cerebellum and impacted the neurological signals sent to my various nerves and body parts. The end result was, simply put, essential tremors. It's not degenerative, but it's not curable, either. Not that anyone's aware of, anyway. But, with submersion-"

Eyes closed, I pulled a slow inhale, opening my eyes with the release. I focused on every limb, every artery, every ounce. Everything slowed; my heart, lungs, but most importantly, the tremors. I tested each calm finger, squeezed my socked toes together. I managed a small smile.

"I've been doing it so long, it takes almost nothing; just the slightest concentration, usually. Unless I get a little...emotional. Which returns us back to the whole 'cold personality' bit. I'm distrustful of people because I've been shocked by them before, and utilize a cucumber aesthetic in uncertain atmospheres to keep my body in check. If I'd listened to my mom, if I hadn't been so _weak_ , maybe I wouldn't be like this. Maybe I wouldn't always be so anxious and nervous twenty-four-fucking-seven, maybe I could be someone _strong_ , but I didn't. I'm not."

Time was still between us.

The floor shined with dew, my heart floating through it, and Toshinori Yagi's bright blue eyes were frozen on me.  
His expression was an open book of horror, etched into the sides of his mouth, his forehead. Something else was reflected in his irises.

 _Pity._

A bell, screaming loud in the dead silence, nearly knocked me off the counter in shock. Time resumed a normal pace and I hopped down, fussing with some dish towels for the spilt water and an oven mitt for the cooked snacks.  
 _You shouldn't have said anything. You should've stayed home, snuggled with Nasu, and lost yourself in a fictitious world where you aren't a complete conundrum of cowardice and stupidity_.  
I hid myself by crouching to the ground, mopping up the water with handfuls of material, hardly aware of the task at hand. _You've probably just scared away the only person you've trusted in years, congratulations._ I rose, still not making eye contact. "Do you, um, do you want me to put these in the sink? Or do you have-"

Toshinori had moved again so quickly I'd had no time to prepare myself; the towels fell from my hands as I was suddenly lifted off the ground, feet dangling in the air as I was crushed to his body, eyes wide in surprise.

He smelled like the sun.  
Of ripe fruit, days before its ruin. Of the heat of a summer's midday, right before the cooldown. He'd lifted me from my waist and his long arms twisted all the way around, elbows nearly conjoined behind me, blonde hair tickling my nose, my cheeks.  
 _It's softer than it looks._

"I'm sorry," His voice was broken, as if he himself had been physically harmed. It gave me a start and an unintentional twitch lifted my right arm. His, in turn, seemed to tighten all the more.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Toshinori."

"I'm sorry there was no one there to protect you. I'm sorry for the cruelty and jealousy of others. I'm sorry something so _awful_ happened to you, but I'm most sorry for the repercussions, both mental and physical, you've suffered because of it. You shouldn't _have_ to fear quirks; or people, for that matter. I'm just so _sorry_ , Chiyo."

I was able to slip my arms out from under his, wrap them around his shoulders, his neck. He was so _warm_. I let my body relax, toes still several feet off the ground. _He's…_

"I promise, I will _never_ allow something like that happen to you again. I give you my word," His words buried themselves into my hair. I sighed, both in a newfound, safe happiness and in mild awkwardness at the severity of his whispered tone.

"Did you notice that, even during my sob story, I was able to insert _two_ puns?" I joked in response, eyes closed. It seemed no struggle for him to hold me, suspend me in the air like this.  
 _Unlike someone else I know._

As if punishment for my thoughts, Toshinori lowered me back to the ground. His sad gaze drenched me in uncomfortableness so I grinned, tapping a finger on his long nose. "Enough with the sadness! We have a pig-out to partake in! Grab some plates! I was thinking we start with the mini-corn dogs…"

Toshinori seemed reluctant to let the moment pass. I nudged his side with my own, still cheerful. A small smile responded. The plates he offered were plastic and decorated with the cartoonish image of a costumed All Might, demonstrating his familiar thumbs-up stance. I shook my head and Toshinori laughed awkwardly, once more embarrassed. _That's more like it._

"Toshi?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Thanks. For listening, I mean. And saying those things,"  
He took the plate I offered, looking confused. "What things?"  
"The whole 'jealousy of others'. Manami wasn't even the slightest bit jealous of me, but it...it was a nice thing to say, I think,"  
Toshinori chuckled, and the amusement on his skeletal face was in itself amusing.

"I wouldn't be so sure she wasn't, Chiyo. What ten year old boy can resist a pretty, wide-eyed girl with stripey legs?"  
"I was _so_ not pretty; I had braces nearly my entire childhood-"

"Chiyo," His eyes were on me again, smile sweet, and that fluttery warmth pooled in my belly.  
"I cannot imagine a single second where you could've been anything less than what you are now. So I'm sorry, but I just can't believe you."

My face ignited. I turned away quickly, knocking an entire pan of food on the floor...again. Erratic laughter slipped out of my idiot mouth and I could've screamed with embarrassment.

I stayed for longer than I should've, ate more than I would've thought possible. I left, breathing with helium lungs, a smile painted on my relieved face.

I'd done it; I'd told someone. I'd allowed someone in, someone I could trust, and felt the warmth of friendship that I had only rarely experienced.

 _I promise I'll never let something like that happen to you again._

A tiny pinprick pocked my high, deflating my body just in the slightest. Like finding an upside down penny on the sidewalk.

 _I'd let someone in._

 _So why did I feel so disappointed?_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Oh, hello.  
Sorry for the two year hiatus. Life is weird.

* * *

The rest of the weekend flew by. Before I knew it Monday was knocking at my door, blistering hot and sunny, as if the weather wanted to give us a cheerful high-five.

The weather could go to hell.

Nasu embodied my sour sentiments. I'd prodded his fat little body after slamming a hand against my phone alarm and received a warning growl in return, uninterested in anything I had to offer him. I took this as a sign of what was to come for the rest of the day and slouched out the door, feeling an ominous cloud of pessimism slowly accumulating above me. A thirty-minute faculty meeting before the work week was just the icing on this glorious Monday.

Sunday had been my spiritual day of rest- with no alarm set I woke up at my usual time and rolled right back over, determined to outlast the chirping robins alerting the world of dawn. Nasu and I had shared a bowl of ice cream, deeply concentrated on some dubbed American films, and virtually ignored all responsibilities until six, when I finally rolled out the lesson plans. The week was full of differentiating ethics from morality. I felt mild exhilaration, as if rising towards a great, mountainous slope; I was actually, maybe, a little _excited_ to see their responses to the activities I had planned.

Ethics classes in college had been interesting due to the crazed emotional responses many of my peers would have, from shutting down completely when someone disagreed with their standpoint to a particular overzealous guy who'd blown the glass out of every window in the building in rage, beyond heated when the class didn't agree his desired morals should be rooted into the institution of Japan's ethics.

I shouldered my two heavy bags, keys in one hand and thermos in the other, lost in thought. Unlike the majority of my classmates, I'd never experienced one of those extreme emotional responses. Logic and level-headedness were the concepts I built my temple upon, coupled with mom's reasonable beliefs, involving everything from heroism to reproductive rights.

 _But...What if she was wrong?_

A sudden headache pinched my forehead just as an alarm shook me of the thought spiral. I glanced at my phone resting on the passenger seat.

 _Reminder: PD seminar- 6 AM, UA Bus Lot A_

Only one week till my PD weekend with Shota Aizawa. I shivered at the thought.

Saturday had left my mind buzzing, and I still wasn't sure it was in a positive way. The way he had left, too, didn't help me pin down where the dark enigma and I stood in terms of civility, either.

I snailed through security, equilibrium off with all my cargo, and noted the sleepy-eyed guard on duty. Had he been asked to arrive early because of the faculty meeting, too? I let out an Aizawa-esque sigh, burdened with the great weight of the world. Faculty meetings were part of teaching, sure, but who had decided on _morning meetings?_

"The great symbol of peace is a morning person; didn't you know?"

I jumped, startled at the voice, and a swift hand caught the flailing arm aimed at his face. Shota Aizawa raised one thin eyebrow, peering down at me behind his unkempt hair. _Had I been talking out loud?_

"Oh look, your reflexes are improving," I noted, tone flat. He looked like a turtle, pulling his head further into that idiotic tape-scarf.

"They had to. Wouldn't want to lose an eye or deal with another unexplainable handprint,"

I continued my hobbled walk, fearful of tardiness. _Why didn't this school have elevators? Did universal design not apply to hero academies?_

"Implying you've had other, more-explainable handprints?"

He'd trailed ahead a few stairs due to my lagging pace but suddenly turned, making direct eye contact.

Aizawa raised his eyebrows once again, eyes suggestive.

My face could've been a ruby paint swatch.

"You're such an idiot," I panted, trying to hurry up the stairs, "what does that even _mean?_ "

"I'll explain it to you when you're older," Came his smart response. My arm was tugged and suddenly a significant amount of weight was lifted from my body. Aizawa had snagged my tote, lazily tossing it over a shoulder and continuing on. _One of his broad, muscular shoulders-_

" _So._ Does that mean All Might will be at the meeting?" My voice sounded relatively normal, I thought. _Nice save._

"In the flesh," Aizawa drawled. I slyly cut my eyes to his.

"Is that a note of _disdain_ in your tone? Jealousy, perhaps?"

Aizawa snorted.

"Contempt, maybe. Our meetings used to be after school, when we were forced to be here anyway," He let out a ragged sigh as I unlocked my classroom, trailing in after me. "Now we're forced to arrive half an hour earlier while still being expected to stay the additional half hour after,"

"How will we survive?" I asked wryly. He allowed my bag to land on the floor with an unceremonious _thunk._ I supposed I'd earned that.

"Do you know where the meeting even is?"

"Library. All the teachers, not just the hero course ones, will be in attendance."

A momentary panic rose. How many teachers _were_ there? I picked my laptop up then sat it back down; would I need it? Were we expected to take notes? I eyed my thermos; there's no way I could go the whole half hour without a drink.

An even scarier thought occurred to me: What if they make the newbies _introduce themselves?_ I paled.

Talking in front of teenagers was one thing.

Doing so in front of twenty-plus mega superheroes was a different beast entirely.

"Chiyo,"

"What?"

He was watching me curiously.

Or rather, watching my forgotten thermos, floating in midair like a patient companion.

"Oh," Came my idiotic reply. My heart thudded and the thermos seemed to pulse along with the beat. I reached out and took hold of the looped handle, trying to regain my clearly lost calm.

"Can we just...pretend that didn't happen?"

"If that's what you want."

He was watching me, though, and not in the sleepy-eyed way of earlier. I felt my face heat under his look; there was no way he'd drop this for good.

Several agonizing moments passed and at last he shifted, burying his hands into the deep pockets of his jumpsuit before wandering into the hall. He turned left and I took this as a sign to leave my laptop, dropping the thermos to my side and following him out.

We walked in silence, side by side, back down those damned stairs only to trek towards another monstrous staircase. _They don't even need a strength training class. All their legs will look like Achilles after three or four years of this place._

"What's in that?" A metal twang rang out as two slender fingers flicked my cup. It was already only about half full. _Should probably refill it before class starts._

"Hm? Just water,"

"Trying to diet with your once-a-week run, I see,"

Aizawa wasn't quick enough to escape my swift punch, annoyed as he rubbed his arm.

"Mom doesn't like to go more than once a week. Besides, I barely have time anyway,"

"There's always time...for fitness," Aizawa answered seriously. My eyes rolled to their own accord.

"Do _you_ go running _every day_ after school?"

"Not every day, but certainly more than you. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday if I can. Wouldn't want to fall too far behind our new all-star teachers," His eyes ran from my shoes back up to my face, expression wry. "By that I mean All Might. Not you."

"Yeah I uh, I got that," I replied, matching bluntness with sarcasm. More than anything, I was really just surprised at how chatty he was being, especially this early in the morning. Wasn't it barely a week ago he'd spat in my face about how much I didn't belong here? _What's with the mood change?_ This was also the second pseudo-slam he'd put down on All Might. _Is he jealous? Or is All Might really_ not _the charming, dreamy guy everyone suspects him of being_? Maybe, as a fellow hero, Aizawa was jealous of All Might's acclaim and his lack thereof. I furtively glanced over at the rugged eraserface, pensive. _He doesn't really seem the type to care about shit like that, though. Maybe he's just trying to make me feel better about the quirk usage?_

"You can stop playing detective at any time now, idiot," My face warmed as Aizawa stopped, looking down at me in mild, irritated amusement, pressing his hand on the large wooden door suddenly in front of us. "We're here. Prepare yourself; new teachers always have to go to the front and give an "about me" presentation,"

" _Shit_ ," I hissed, popping my head inside. The room was already half-filled with menacing-looking teachers- half of which I'd never even seen before. _Is that guy made out of cinder block?  
_ Speaking in front of my kids was one thing- these people, half of which were in _costume_ , would be like the time I'd been forced to present for a class of graduate students. I could still hear their snickering, pretentious voices beating like wings against my senses, critiquing every syllable of my speech, like some sort of pathetic-version of PTSD. I started to back up, shaking my head.

"Maybe I can just, you know, slither back into my classroom-no one would even notice-"

"But then your dream-boy All Might wouldn't get to see you again," Aizawa said helpfully. His body blocked mine from escape, firm as I walked backwards into him. I tried to make a break for it, pivoting on my heel, but the bastard was too good, easily keeping me at bay with one long arm trapping me like a seat belt. I glared up at his smug face. Clearly, someone was enjoying himself. _Gotta turn this around somehow._

"That's like the fifth time you've taken a shot at him now. What's your deal?" I demanded, jabbing a finger into his chest. I squinted, throwing in a Cheshire smirk to boot. Ever since Saturday I'd felt a tad of boldness flavor my blood, spurred both by my eventful morning with the grouchy eraser and relaxing night with Toshinori. The nagging of rules and serenity had quieted, just a fraction, and I was curious to see how far I was willing to now go outside my realm of passiveness.

It was time to test my limits once again.

I had his full attention and though he tried not to show it, suspicion and wariness had sprouted in his eyebrows. I jabbed him again, leaving my finger twisted against his chest.  
"You _say_ it's not about All Might's fame or abilities, but every time I mention him you've got a comment. I can't help but feel my undying affection for him is maybe making you a teeny bit _jealous_ , Shota."

 _Bingo._

His hair flickered like flames, unaffected by the laws of gravity, and dark eyes suddenly took on an undertone of red, anger more apparent than ever before. I fought off a shit-eating grin; if I pissed him off enough, maybe he'd even go back to _his_ classroom, too. I wouldn't look nearly as bad if two of us bailed.

 _With his hair up, he looks almost as good as he did when we were running._  
I swatted away the thought. I was on a mission- I couldn't afford the distraction. Aizawa was all but breathing fire, leaning down towards me. Was he... _blushing?_ I lifted my tilting face, smile as tranquil as the Buddha.

"Careful, _Chiyo_ , or you'll reveal your ego is just as large as your ass,"

"Oh, so you _have_ been checking out my ass."

* * *

 _Who the hell was this woman, and what had she done with the meek little shrimp version?_

She probably saw herself as clever. Sensual, even. Instead she looked like a dumb little kid who thought they'd finally outtricked a grown-up. Chiyo Tsutomi smirked so crookedly he wanted to pinch her smug lips right off her imp face.

Or press his own against them- he hadn't decided.

Two urges raged against one another, polar opposites and impossibly infuriating as one was so completely tempting and ridiculous _._

God _,_ this woman was _maddening._

"Kind of hard not to, when you keep landing on your face like some clumsy teenage girl every five seconds," He kept the snap out of his voice, not wanting her to realize just how deep she had already crawled under his skin. If possible, that smirk increased. She leaned up, bringing sly eyes even closer to his.

"Why wouldn't I fall, knowing you'll be around to catch me?"

Her words were like an electric shock down his spine, raising every hair on his body. Chiyo's clear eyes were on him like a fox on its prey, innocent act forgotten. Carefully he pulled his face closer to breathe a response against her pink lips.

"I'm not into the damsel in distress act, sorry. Women who can't hold their own do nothing for me."

Her eyes widened. A flash of something crossed through them, quick as lightning. She didn't pull away like when he'd burned her those few short weeks ago, more defiant this time.

The shiver from before rippled at this new, surprising moment of boldness he hadn't expected her capable of. Those lips thinned and a bottom row of pearls moved, to respond or for another reason Aizawa would never know, as the pair was suddenly shrouded in darkness. Chiyo moved away quickly, seemingly taking all the oxygen with her as he breathed a sharp, surprising breath. They had been just inches away from one another.

 _What the hell had just happened?_

Chiyo was having to bend her neck in an unseemly manner to see who- or what- had caused the looming shadow. Aizawa was mildly disappointed she hadn't swung at the intruder like she had towards him, _multiple_ times. Her mouth fell open in quiet awe. He didn't even need to look up to realize who stood before them as her face flushed cherry.

"Good morning! You're Chiyo, right? It's nice to see you again!" All Might's overpowered voice sounded particularly deep as he greeted the now starstruck woman, grinning teeth enough to light the entire hall regardless of electricity. Chiyo staggered and her right arm bounced sporadically, totally energized by her hero's presence. She snatched the arm down and held it to her side, clearly frazzled, before wiping at the skirt of her dress and dropping her thermos in the process, bending quickly to snatch it back up.

"All Might, hi! It's nice to, um, meet you. You know, again. Because I saw you at your interview. I mean, not your interview, obviously, I wasn't hired yet or even on the hiring board when _you_ were hired, but you were on mine and you met me there, so, yes. Hello. Again."

Christ, this was embarrassing to watch.

"Ah-ha-ha! I remember it like it was yesterday!" All Might boomed. A large hand fell upon Chiyo's shoulder and she looked as if she might faint. Aizawa, coincidentally, felt the sudden urge to vomit.

"About time for the meeting! Were you two about to go in? Mind if I join you?"

"Oh no, not at all-"

"Sorry, but there's only three to a side and we need to save a chair for Toshinori," Aizawa interrupted smoothly. Chiyo let out a strange noise, interest in the formidable hero put on hold as she glanced around for her malnourished friend.

"That's right- I forgot! He works for you, doesn't he? Toshinori? Where is he?" Chiyo asked all at once, day-dreamy gaze falling to concern at the mention of her friend. She glanced down the vacant halls and the mostly-filled room for him, too distracted to notice the little exchange occurring between Aizawa and Toshinori himself. Aizawa's eyebrows raised, expectant. All Might slid his hand across his neck a few quick times, gesturing towards the distracted Chiyo, look pleading. Aizawa let out an immaculate sigh.

"Sometimes he's meddling with the coffee maker in the lounge; if I hurry, I can bring him back in time-"

"Teaching aids are not always required to come to these little shindigs. Regardless, we'll keep a space open for him," Great, fake tears of gratitude slipped down All Might's defined cheekbones and two tired eyes rolled before Chiyo caught them, looking confused. Aizawa grabbed her wrist, careful not to take her by the hand, and dragged her away. "Let's just go,"

"Oh! Um, good-bye," Chiyo bid, voice breathy once again. Her feet stumbled as Aizawa gave her a particularly rough tug, annoyance growing. This action seemed pretty good evidence towards Chiyo's little statement before; if he was honest, this was the way someone jealous _would_ be acting. His scoff drew the attention of a few nearby sitting teachers, all looking on interestedly at the usually-unsociable 1-A teacher dragging the new, heeled ethics instructor by the arm. Her ridiculous hair was half-pulled into a childish bun on the top of her head, the rest like a controlled lion's mane around her shoulders.

"Why don't you slow down?" She hissed, trying to pull away.

"Why don't you get a fucking haircut?" He hissed back, much to her bewilderment. Upon reaching a table to the far right Aizawa quickly detached himself from her, falling into a seat with a face of passive boredom.

Chiyo Tsutomi stood beside him, gaping like a dumbstruck llama. She glanced around, as if to find an explanation for his behavior. He crossed his arms and slumped in his chair even further, not meeting her wide-eyed, slowly-angering face.

If she didn't know any better, it looked like Shota Aizawa, the professional hero known for his cool, stoic persona and relentless level-headedness was... _sulking_.

"Men are impossible," She finally muttered, sliding into the seat to his left and releasing a weary sigh. He watched her look around the room again, clearly assessing the other teachers, body tense. Nearly everyone had brought their laptop and he watched her lips move with a silent curse, angry for not bringing her own. _Maybe she should think for herself and not imitate me, then._

As if realizing they were no longer alone, Chiyo started to gradually morph into an alternate, robotic ego; she was fidgety, on edge, but with a shuddering breath everything started to slow, shedding her emotions like a second skin. Was this her quirk at work?

 _Is she actually that nervous about speaking in front of the teachers?_ He mused, still observing her peculiar behavior. _Or is it because everyone in this room is a known hero and quirk-user?_

Originally, he'd assumed she was simply an all-knowing, patronizing snob who believed herself above quirk use, viewing society as decaying and destined for an inevitable end via the abuse of those powers. The way she carried herself, the cooled tone of her voice, advocated for a persona of jaded passiveness; one who saw themselves as _better_ than others.

But then there was that goofy, finicky woman, whose smiles were quick and embarrassment imminent; the one who wore matching clothes with her mother and fell every other two seconds; one who packed lunches for the strongest hero in the world, assuming he was nothing but a frail, quirkless man. The one who marveled in wonder at the weirdest of quirks and could make Katsuki Bakugo blush, cheerfully greeting him each morning in the hallways.

The woman who, only a week ago, seemed to utterly detest him, and today drew close enough he could've counted each of her dark eyelashes, spy the few light freckles underneath her skin.

The more Aizawa thought about it, the more he believed the latter Chiyo, with the crooked smiles and frazzled behavior, was the _real_ one, the other just a defense mechanism. The more she grew to know the students and himself, the more she revealed.

It wasn't a distaste for quirks; it was a _fear._

His mouth opened to ask a question his brain hadn't fully processed, sitting up to draw her attention, when a door near the main projector opened. The tables around them continued chatting, unperturbed by the newcomer and the slowly moving ears of an animal, suddenly rising when Principal Nezu hopped up onto a chair and then the table, smiling cheerily. As if pulled by a string, Chiyo's spine straightened, attention wholly directed to the principal. Aizawa hesitated. The moment was lost as the meeting began, though the questions still lingered.

 _What caused her fear?_

"Good morning, staff! I hope everyone had a restful weekend!" The principal's voice rang out, quieting the room. With her attention distracted Aizawa reached down to pick up the thermos Chiyo obsessively seemed to carry around, noting its heaviness. Principal Nezu continued to prattle on and Aizawa's attention promptly turned off. He popped open the straw and sniffed.

"This really is just water," He said disappointedly. Chiyo glanced his way and did a double-take, mouth falling open as Aizawa lazily drank from her bottle. His dull eyes met hers, half-lidded, watching her watch him until he'd nearly drained the thermos's contents. With one furtive glance at Nezu, Chiyo snatched the bottle away and violently twisted Shota's nose, earning a surprised yelp before she returned to pristine posture, seemingly innocent. The room quieted and every eye turned to Aizawa, face blanketed by his messy hair and hands, fingers pinching his own throbbing nose.

"Mr. Aizawa?" Principal Nezu asked kindly. Aizawa raised a shaking hand, waving off the principal's concern. Nezu shrugged and returned to his lecture on cell phone usage in the hallways. The woman to his left was wavering, lips stitched tightly together, dying with silent laughter.

"You're going to pay for that," He growled, much to her amusement. Light eyes slid to their corners; the only movement noting her attention to him.

"I'd _so_ like to see you try,"

The meeting lasted all the way till the final bell as Principal Nezu was led off topic and promptly fell into a tedious, brain-numbing lecture for twenty minutes. By the end even the try-hard instructors had glazed eyes, bones stiff as they were finally released from the meeting. Aizawa was the first out and Chiyo close behind him, shoes loud as she took several steps per his single stride. He slowed, just the slightest. She looked rather...peevish.

"What are you smirking about? I _will_ get you back, so don't feel as if you're even remotely safe," He promised. Chiyo shook her head, idiotic bun bouncing.

"Principal Nezu. He must have forgotten about the new teachers! I didn't have to stand up- I didn't have to make an idiot of myself in front of all the faculty!" She cheered, exuberant. They were in the hallway, in front of their respective classrooms, students milling around as they awaited their teachers' return to unlock the classrooms.

A slow, full-toothed smile ripped open Shota Aizawa's face.

"Oh, that? I made that up- a logical deception. New teachers don't have to introduce themselves to the faculty; this isn't kindergarten."

If Shota carried around a camera, now would have been his life's money shot.

Chiyo Tsutomi moved as if in slow motion, eyes widening like saucers and mouth falling agape, experiencing the ultimate betrayal of Shota Aizawa's practical joking.  
She seemed too shocked to react but he covered his nose, just to be safe. The movement brought her to life and her head started to shake, eyes glued to his face.

"You...You're the devil," She breathed, still jolted into stupidity. He grinned.

"So what's that make you, the devil's advocate?"

A blush creeped into her cheeks. A strange, foreign feeling warmed Aizawa's insides, forcing him to look away, smiling instead at their feet. A shiver bounced her left knee under his gaze and Chiyo fidgeted, shifting her weight to the other leg.

"Hey! Ms. Tsutomi, you gonna let us in or what?" Someone lisped.

Both adults unconsciously cursed the purple-balled pervert, spell broken. Chiyo seemed suddenly very aware of the crowded hallway and the entirety of her class watching her every move, all looking rather enthralled. She let out a bizarre laugh before chucking her keys at Mineta, knocking him flat on the ground.

"Here! Please take attendance for me. I appreciate it!"

The students watched, unmoving, until Chiyo's face suddenly changed into something from a nightmare. Like lightning all the students clambered to get inside, fearful of the curious wrath their teacher must possess. Aizawa nodded, impressed.

"So, I guess I'll see you...later," Chiyo relayed awkwardly. Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

"You eat with Toshinori in your room for lunch, right?" His voice asked of its own accord.

"Er, yeah. Why?"

"Mind if I join you?"

Before she could answer he had turned and entered his room, raising a hand in a passive wave, chest heaving in bafflement and mild fury for inviting himself like some fucking third wheel into his peer's room for lunch. He could've utilized those precious forty-minutes with something _useful_ , like sleeping.

His strictly- _school-relationship_ peer's room.

His smiling, goofy, woman-shaped peer's room.

He shook himself, _hard_ , of the thoughts worming into his overworked brain. Students were already silently waiting for his instruction as he began explaining the importance of understanding thermodynamics in the face of energy-based villains.

He'd eat lunch with Tsutomi and Toshinori.  
And then he'd ask his colleague what his intentions were with their new, soft-lipped coworker.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

"Are you stalking me?"

I stood, shivering, unsure how to respond.  
His eyes were as murky as the rain.  
My throat bobbed with a swallow, mouth opening to speak words I didn't know.

"Not...Exactly."

* * *

 _Several Days Earlier_

I knew I was being a numbskull, but the logical part of my brain had taken a long walk off a short pier, leading me to the current predicament I found myself in.

It would look pretty pathetic if I showed up on _his_ route- casually and totally by coincidence, of course- and couldn't keep up with Shota Aizawa during his routine jog through the park on any given Tuesday or Saturday. _Didn't he say Thursday, too?_

And so after two seconds of deliberation I'd decided to pick up running _every_ day; at least until I would be less of an embarrassment to myself. _Then_ I would happen across him in the park, legs long and toned, breath easy as I matched his pace.

Only, I wasn't in shape.  
And I seriously doubted I'd be anywhere near a shape other than a half-eaten pear before Christmas, _especially_ with all my favorite binge-worthy shows coming back with the new season.

I glanced up at the too-bright sky and contemplated my life choices.

I chose a location farther away from the Aizawa-rendezvous area (Was it counterintuitive if I had to drive to the place I wanted to run?) and found the rural atmosphere far less intimidating; where there was perfectly-manicured grass at the other park there was nothing but forestry here, a worn-in path of soil, as soft and muted as a deer's fur, winding throughout.  
The sun beat down against my brow, creating pinpricks of sweat across my nose, dampening my shirt.

 _Would it be a defeat if I just went home? It's not like anyone would know._

Lunch's strangeness, where I'd sat in inexplicable awkwardness between Toshinori- sweet and nervous as ever- and Shota Aizawa- quiet, brooding, but overall civil- had been overshadowed only by the craziness of my afternoon classes, led by the firecracker ringmaster whose quirk was only matched in power by his explosive opinions. The morality-versus-ethical question concerning the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few had shifted the tide of mentalities in Class 1-A in a very unexpected way.

Bakugo, of all people, seemed hesitant to give an opinion. A sly smile had carried me over to his desk before I leaned over, asking if he was thinking of someone in particular whom he'd save over others. A blush, as clear as day, had turned his angry face a new shade of pissed.

I smiled at the memory, legs beginning to move at a crawling pace down the quiet dirt path.  
Katsuki Bakugo was an uncontrollable ball of fire held together by melting paper clips and tape. Strangely, the kid was growing on me. He was credited as a ferocious fighter but was completely vulnerable emotionally; especially in the area of feelings towards others. Every little smile and ray of attention seemed to frazzle his tough-guy act like a five year old getting picked on by a girl for the very first time. I took every opportunity to whack him with my yardstick, be it earned for bullying, cursing, or simply because I felt like it, and utilized quiet moments to tease him over Uraraka and Midoriya. That seemed to _especially_ piss him off, much to my delight.

A handful of students were starting to stick out in my mind's eye; ones I'd connected with organically and genuinely enjoyed teaching and associating with. An indigo bowl now sat in one of my classroom's window sills, filled with clear water and a singular, sunfire water lily floating peacefully atop the surface, gifted to me by a bashful Tsu. Another little doll, suspiciously looking like Aizawa, had also appeared one day on my desk, one fingerless arm held out and touching the knob of my own figurine, as if holding hands. I'd quickly separated them, face warming for a jumble of reasons.

Ever since I'd ran, _literally_ , into Shota Aizawa last weekend, I couldn't seem to get him out of my mind.

Embarrassing, considering the guy saw me as a clumsy weakling-idiot with too much hair and the social skills of a middle-school boy.

Apparently my entire class had witnessed our interaction in the hallway, in which cool-as-ice Mr. Aizawa had so casually flirted with Ms. Tsutomi, leaving her a jittery, pink-faced mess, flustered and somewhat dreamy for all of first hour.

I highly disagreed with this notion.

Which brought me back to Aizawa himself, and the lunch-date from the Twilight Zone.

Toshinori had seemed a little taken aback when the notoriously unsociable teacher waltzed in at noon but had recovered quickly, involving him in the conversation as much as Aizawa would allow. I'd felt like the unstable bridge between two foreign lands, even though I was the real newcomer in the equation. Every conversation between the men strangely felt like walking on eggshells, or being the only one who didn't know the language being spoken in the room.  
While Toshinori and I had munched through our boxed lunches, Aizawa had eaten only a crumbly granola bar, silent and strangely sullen. I'd have to start bringing _him_ a lunch now, too. _Maybe I should start charging a fee…_

Already I was beginning to pant, heart rate hiking with each pounding step on the concrete. Aizawa's slow smile suddenly flashed in my mind's eye. I picked up speed, trying to run away from him/my brain/my emotions/the world.

What possesses women to grow the most illogical, stupidest infatuations? All Aizawa ever did was ridicule and annoy me, so why even waste a moment thinking about his serious, half-lidded eyes? Why did I want to run my fingers through that dark, silky hair? _Why not focus on the daydream-made-reality of All Might and all his glory?_ My legs flew across the concrete, wind whipping my sweaty face.

It was then when my foot, by universal design, found the one perfectly-elevated root in this entire park.

I let out an idiotic screech of surprise as my face greeted the not-as-smooth-as-I-thought dirt trail, dusty in my mouth and violent in my eyes. I remained facedown, totally motionless for a solid ten seconds, before writhing around and onto my back with a groan.

"I should've just stayed home," I commented drily to no one, throwing an arm over my dirty, probably-bleeding face. I had never been athletic; that had always been for someone else- someone with coordination and a mother who wasn't terrified of pulled muscles and athlete's foot and papercuts. I was lucky to have pleaded my way into _band._

I splayed my arms out, releasing the tension that wrinkled my forehead as I relaxed. I focused on the blood in every vein and artery, slowing its pace to force a sense of calm.

" _I'm not into the damsel in distress act, sorry."_

His words had been on a constant loop; a paper airplane strung by fishing wire, lazily circling around my thoughts. My fingers curled into the soft dirt.  
I wasn't here just to one day stumble into Aizawa for flirting purposes. His pressing morality questions and accusations from day one had had me second guessing myself, analyzing my purpose and beliefs.

If UA was somehow invaded, if my students were endangered, would I be able to do anything to protect them?

 _It's not your job to protect people_ , I could hear Mom respond with. But _wasn't_ it? What kind of teacher would I be if I wasn't willing to lay down my life for theirs? Did I _want_ to be that kind of teacher, who put themselves before those they taught?

A burst of annoying pain highlighted my cranium and returned me to reality.

 _Am I damsel in distress? Well, I'm lying in the middle of a dirt path after falling directly on my face because I couldn't catch myself._ I blocked out the sun with my arm again.  
 _At least no one was around to witness it this time._

"Miss...Tsutomi?"

This day literally couldn't get any worse.

A head eclipsed the glaring sun, my skin already cooler in the sudden shade. I squinted open one weary eye, peeking from under my arm to find the young, pale face of Momo Yaoyorozu staring down at me, baffled.

"Tsutomi-san? What are you...Um, what exactly are you _doing_?"  
"Experiencing photosynthesis for myself; why should plants get all the fun?"  
"Er, what?"  
"Nothing."

Momo offered a helpful hand and I took it, hoisting my clutz self up to brush off my rear. Her look was growing more and more feline, like Nasu when I fell out of bed or forgot a towel before going into the bathroom. I worked myself into an expression of blank passiveness, hoping she didn't also notice the horrifying sweat mark imprinted between my nearly non-existent boobs. I observed that Momo, too, was wearing a sports bra- only she didn't look like a flat-chested little boy in hers. I suddenly had a distinct rekindling of dislike for Nemuri Kayama that I tried to cough off.

"What are you doing here? Training?" I asked, pretending to know what I was doing as I stretched my calves. Momo watched before joining, though holding her leg in the opposite direction. I quickly corrected my posture to mimic hers.

"Something like that. My quirk utilizes my body's lipids, so I have to eat a lot to restore energy; however, if I don't utilize my quirk after eating too much, I'll just gain weight. So! I have to keep up a good regimen. Plus, running is good for your endurance. You never know when you'll need it."

"I see." I didn't really see; she could create whatever she wanted. Why not just create a moped? "Do you...come here often?"  
"More often than you," She joked.  
"Ouch. Accurate! But harsh."

"If you're going to start running this route, maybe we could do it together! I could help you," Momo's offer felt genuine and her eyes went wide, as if excited by the thought. I hesitated. Would I be breaking some teacher etiquette, working out with a student outside of school? She _was_ of the same gender, and this _was_ a school focused on athleticism.

"Do you know if other teachers-"

"Train with students outside of school? I'm not really sure, but we do spend a significant amount of time working and training with teachers within school, as well as other adults via school-sponsored apprenticeships and field trips." Momo relayed it like a Google Search. I nodded, mostly to myself. If they spent that much time with individual staff members, maybe it wouldn't be too big a deal if I ran after school with a student. My head bobbed with a more-affirming movement.

"Right. Well then, this shouldn't be a problem, and I could really use your help...obviously," I admitted with a laugh before growing serious. "However, this in no way will impact your grade within my class- for better _or_ worse,"

"I understand! Hey, maybe we could get other class members involved- we could make you a workout regime-"

"You're already making me regret this decision," I interrupted flatly. Momo straightened, pretending to zip her grinning mouth shut. She gave me a once-over, much to my discomfort, and frowned.

"Well, first of all, those aren't running shoes."

* * *

And so we began a treacherous routine of stretching, running, sprinting, and walking.  
The horrible part of exercise isn't that it hurts while you're doing it- it's when the pain creeps in like a thief during the night, seeping into your bones, expanding your muscles with a hot iron and debilitating your movements like a sudden electric shock.

My body felt like I'd been run over with a semi-truck in the morning.  
What was worse- I'd promised Momo to return _today_ , too.  
And Wednesday.

 _If I quit my job, how long would it take for the debt collectors to show up to sell my bodily organs?_

The day passed quickly and before anyone could even say the word "cardio" Momo was cheerfully waving at me on the trail, a seemingly-new pair of running shoes in one hand. On her right, to my immense horror, was another familiar face, the tip of a pink tongue flopped to the side of her thin mouth. _Great, another witness._

Tsu proved just as helpful and encouraging as Momo and actually believed in breaks (a concept unheard of to the more-aggressive Yaoyorozu), even bringing extra water bottles with her. I was practically crying with gratitude, hugging myself to her knees and blessing her future web-toed children.

Half my body felt doused in boiling water the majority of Wednesday. To be safe from dehydration I'd downed four extra thermoses of water (and took twice as many bathroom breaks, much to the displeasure of the female staff members having to wait their turn for the single-stall), moving sluggishly throughout class so as not to inflame my groaning muscles further.

Thursday morning my legs were still sore, but in an almost enjoyable way. Walking didn't feel as sadistic, but that after-burn still lingered; a quiet reminder of the growing and stretching tendons beneath my skin. Before I became too focused on the blood running throughout said muscles I kissed Nasu good-bye and raced out the door, rubbing the minuscule scratch I'd received in return from my un-delighted feline friend.

A dark head became apparent as I crossed through security, face nearly nonexistent behind a curtain of shaggy hair, lithe body waiting against the brick building the guards always cheerfully waved from.  
Aizawa's behavior had changed since the Monday meeting. Every morning now he'd appeared- either lying in wait or by divine timing, I wasn't quite sure- lazily pausing to watch me walk through security before resuming his slowed pace, five pounds sliding off my shoulder as he carried the heavier of the two bags I always brought.

At first I tried to fill every moment with chatter, often receiving radio static or a muffled "Mmm," or "Yeah" in return. Now if I thought of a good topic or needed to vent I did so; otherwise a comfortable silence lived between us, and I enjoyed the easy aura of being around the tall, quiet eraserhead.

He'd told me a little more about his powers and let me see his goggles, vehemently denying my inquiry into trying them on. In turn I mentioned a bit more about my quirk, though not to the extent I'd revealed to Toshinori. Something I couldn't quite put into words restrained my tongue from ever speaking too much, no matter how I secretly desired to dredge up the past. Was it fear? Fear that he won't understand, or care?

 _Or fear that his reaction will match Toshinori's pitying look._

Still, it was nice to have a friend, especially since Toshi hadn't been around the past few days. When I'd asked Aizawa about our absent friend he'd just mumbled something under his breath, answer as unhelpful as it was vague.

School passed quickly, lunch a quiet ordeal with Aizawa, long legs crossed and spine slouched in a beanbag chair, and I, shoes off and legs tucked into my desk chair, eating the meals I'd prepared. I readied myself for the next workout ahead of me, hurrying home to change directly after the bell .

I still wasn't brave enough to journey into the park Aizawa frequented; I never even mentioned the other location to my running-mates. Instead I stuck with my new-normal, arriving around the time I usually met up with Momo and Tsu. My car was in desperate need of an oil change so I instead took the bus, enjoying the short walk to the park after being dropped off. The sky had become shaded by dark, pregnant clouds, drifting quickly across the horizon, and with mild disdain I realized I hadn't even checked the weather forecast; had the girls said something about this?

After ten past our usual meeting time and no sign of them, I decided to take off on my own. Even if Momo and Tsu were late, it wasn't like they couldn't catch up with me in two seconds flat. Stretching always came first, as I was _properly_ taught, and I limbered up my arms and legs, ankles and neck, before trotting off at a mellow pace.

The park was alight in sepia tones from the strange weather. Ground squirrels peeped little faces from their burrows and sniffed the air. Medleys of birds' songs, usually so loud, were muted, as if quietly whispering about what was to come. Had I missed a weather alert about a hurricane or something? Usually I knew ahead of time due to my quirk; I could feel the growing waters, the heaviness of the air. The weight was now becoming tangible around me as I focused, pushing down on my limbs, every hair follicle, but I hadn't really thought anything of it. _Normal people don't run in the rain, Chiyo. They're not water resistant like you can be._

A figure started to emerge ahead of me just as the first bullets fell, piercing my skin with an icy-cold sting. I hurried my pace, noting the black, dampened ponytail gently swaying back and forth with each stride. _Momo._

"Hey!" I called. The rain, growing in strength, drowned my words immediately. The droplets rolling off my skin left no residue, as if I were made of oil, keeping my core temperature steady and clothes dry. If I wanted to catch up with my "trainer", though, I would have to diverge more energy into running and focus less on my water resistance and fluid regulation.  
 _Guess tonight will be a hair-wash night after all._

My legs pumped harder, useless voice continuing to call out to her quickly-escaping figure, oblivious to my attempts.

"Oi, Momo!"

 _What's with her?_ The workout outfit I'd chosen clung now like a second skin, sweat mixing with the rain until I couldn't tell the sensations apart anymore.

Water in all forms was, for the most part, calming to me.  
My great distaste for wet, heavy ponytails, however, was ruining the tranquil vibe I could have potentially been enjoying, as well as the chilliness of the rain.

I ripped the tie from my hair and immediately the tendrils fell, alive and dancing in the moisture.  
I was closing the distance between myself and the dark-clothed runner, thighs wailing in protest as I pushed myself harder.  
Just as I reached for her, rain obscuring where my fingers landed, the figure vanished altogether.

"What...the hell?" I gasped, tumbling to my knees. My hand was empty; the arm I'd reached for had dodged, lightning quick. Mud squelched underneath my legs, sinking me in like quicksand. I staggered up, shaking each leg and wiping at my eyes, confused and increasingly drenched. Where did she go? _Had she ever even been there?  
_ Oxygen slowly filled my lungs, body stilling. I reached outside myself, allotting more use of my quirk than I had in a decade to capture the figure veiled by the rain, submersing myself.

It was instantaneous.

A sickening sense of foreboding swept through my hair, stretched its claws down my spine. The rain which brought me peace suddenly sounded thunderous; only the constant pounding of my heart and the droning sheets of water filled my mind- demanding, _angry_. I tried to turn only to find my feet sinking, lost in rising water. Panic consumed me, body and soul, caught between reality and the nightmare that had plagued me since I was a child.  
My body was frozen, erratic heart rate uncontrollable.  
I gasped for each frantic breath, lungs restricting with the haggard intake as the water rose up, up, up, lapping at my waist, nature's drums of war beating into my skin like knives.

' _Your power isn't a gift; quirks are not gifts, they're instruments of death.'_

"It's not real; it's not _real_ ," I breathed, covering my ears like a frightened child against the razor voice seeping in. _This is pathetic, you're a grown woman. Stop this._ I pictured my mom, explaining how traumatic memories could be distorted by the mind or triggered by events.

I pictured her brushing my hair, kissing my temple. I pictured Nasu, my heart slowing, my classroom. I focused all my energy into squelching my quirk and regulating my frantic body, fighting the uncontrollable convulsions that were crashing like waves through me.

That face, the face that always appeared, floating in the eddied waters that endlessly drowned me every other week, flashed its luminescent teeth, and I wanted to die.

 _I'll find you; I'll_ _ **hurt**_ _you. Is that what you want?'_

"You're not _real_ ," I hissed, anger and shame rising. I'd suffered more panic attacks, more bizarre quirk-related visions or memories or _whatever_ than anyone I had ever known. I _knew_ this wasn't real; I _knew_ I was stronger. My body, betrayed by my mind, would lock itself down as the invaders rallied inside, inviting chaos, but I couldn't allow them to win. Whatever this illness was that came with my quirk could be beaten; it _had_ to be.

" _Damsels in distress don't do anything for me, sorry."_

I imagined his face, and the way I felt when he smiled at me.  
I had heard his words, and wanted to be _stronger._

"I can't...let you win anymore," My voice was quiet, as still as my limbs had begun to grow, spine straightening. The water began to subside; on its own or by my quirk, I wasn't sure. The rage was tapering, reluctant to release its vice on my chest. "I have to be strong. For mom. For my students. For-"

I couldn't finish the sentence, even to myself.  
The rain, once so enraged, was nothing more than a gentle melody once again.  
The cool, running droplets lightened my body, brought a new sense of power and clarity.  
I wasn't as weak as I'd led myself to believe; for the first time I'd held the demons at bay, relying on nothing but my own willpower.  
The sky was just as grey as before, the path just as muddy.  
I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

"Hey, idiot. Why are you laughing to yourself?"

His voice couldn't hide an undertone of concern. Glancing down at my muddy, drenched body, I could hardly blame him.  
I turned and grinned, dripping wet and lighter than feathers.

Shota Aizawa raised an eyebrow. His head tilted, a black, sleek tail moving behind him.  
It was never Momo I was chasing.

"Are you…stalking me?"

I stood, shivering, unsure how to respond.  
His eyes were as murky as the rain.  
My throat bobbed with a swallow, mouth opening to speak words I didn't know.

"Not...Exactly."

The rain pattered around us. Cicadas and tree frogs sang love songs to their potential mates. Like a painter adding water, the dust had thickened with the rain and brushed my legs, accenting my arms and pollocking my face and hair. I was a crazed mess with a smile like a cracked egg.

Shota Aizawa watched me.

"What kind of idiot goes running in the rain?"  
"Says the man also standing in the rain."  
"Are you mouthing off again, Tsutomi?"  
"Are you for some reason interested in my mouth, Aizawa?"

A moment passed. His shoulders slumped and that twitch wrinkled just one corner of his mouth.  
Here we were, two potential idiots in the rain, unable to express what we were really thinking.  
He nodded his head back towards the entryway. "Come on. I don't live far from here."

He walked slightly ahead until I caught up, fingers brushing against his with the movement.

He didn't pull away.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

His place smelled like laundry; clean, simple.

"Do you think you'll always live in an apartment?"  
"It's logical to, seeing as it's only me."

The walls were muted tones of blue and grey, the floor a river of dark wood. Not a single decoration or photograph was in sight. The furniture was just as bare, save a singular burgundy throw on the couch and a basket of similar blankets nearby. This made sense- he definitely seemed the napping type.  
 _What would that be like, cuddling up with him on a rainy night like this?_

"Chiyo?"  
"What?" I stood, soaked and filthy on his doormat, warm embarrassment slowly filling my pores as the reality of my situation started to kick in. _What am I doing here?_

The park I thought safest from Aizawa was one nearly bordering his apartment complex. With one short walk we were at his place of residence, snuggled in the seemingly rural area that had been forgotten by the rest of the city.

"Stay here," His voice was normal, calm. I watched, hair dripping and skin cool, as he walked down a dark hallway, a light soon appearing in a far away room. I slid my shoes off and carefully placed them next to his. The cold soles of my feet left condensation marks as I took a careful step into Shota Aizawa's apartment, calling the water with me to save his pristine floorboards.

There were probably rules about being in a coworker's home; dating, surely, forbidden. I trailed a finger across the closest wall.  
 _How close is too close?_

Shota stalked back down the hallway he'd disappeared down, clothed in a navy quarter-sleeve and dark sweats, hair still casually pulled away from his face. He found me, mouth still but eyes just the slightest crinkled, and I realized with fear I'd already stumbled in too deep.

The lion was already in the room.

"You can take a shower if you want; I put some spare clothes in the bathroom," He glanced out the sliding glass door. Rain still fell in dark droves. "It doesn't look like it's going to let up soon. We can wait it out while your clothes dry."  
I could've told him I didn't need to wait, that I could easily dry the clothes out with my quirk.  
Instead I nodded with a finicky smile and traveled deeper down the rabbit hole.

The bathroom matched the aesthetic of the other rooms and proved just as clean. There were no dollops of toothpaste stuck to the sink, no stray hairs on the toilet or even a fingerprint on the mirror. I peeled off the shirt clinging to my body and placed it across the towel bar, soaked shorts soon following suit. A shift in sound caused me to startle and Aizawa suddenly appeared, reaching past me to fiddle with the shower.

"Sorry, I should've told you; the mechanics are kind of weird. If you turn this handle about forty degrees and the other about ninety, you should be good-" His words drizzled out like the starting shower, eyes catching mine before realizing his mistake.

We stood, one fully clothed man and a woman in nothing but her bare skivvies, frozen in a time vortex.

I crossed my arms over my chest, biting my lip. Aizawa looked at if someone had just announced he had detention duty for the next century.  
"Probably should've knocked."  
"Might've been a good idea, yeah."

I prodded him out and quickly shut the door, throwing my whole weight against it for good measure. The frame was cool against my back as I slid down, hardly able to breathe. A garbled noise came from the other side. Had that been a _blush_ I saw creeping into his face?

I hurried out of my undergarments and into the shower, feeling the immediate relief of steaming water against my skin, infusing a familiar sense of calm only water had ever been able to bring to me. Every touch felt intimate and I bathed in a rush, choosing a quick wash-through of my hair due to the accrued grime from my fall.

I was naked, in Shota Aizawa's shower, basking in all his scents, heart in throat and chest full of helium, blood trembling in my veins.  
The clothes laid out were simple; a dark pullover and running shorts that would act as a floor-length skirt if I wore them.

" _I'm not into the damsel in distress act, sorry."_

 _Fuck it._

If I could frame any memory, place it on my pretend mantlepiece, it would be of Shota Aizawa's expression as I returned from the shower, damp hair over one shoulder and legs bare save the just-long-enough sweater he'd lent me for the moment. I'd at least had the decency to dry out my underwear and slip them back on, but this length could have given even Kayama a run for her scandal-crown.  
His eyes traveled over my body like a newfound map, particularly slow where material met skin. I wondered where his desired destination was before promising to pinch myself later for such a cheesy thought.

"So, now what?"  
His dark eyes gazed at my legs a moment more before his chest lifted with a deep breath, eyes closing like before. He cleared his throat; "Are you hungry?"  
"I could eat,"  
He gave me a dry stare, rising and leading me into a small kitchen.  
"What?"  
"That's such a female answer. ' _I could eat'._ "  
"You're right, I should've commented my disdain over the fact that you didn't already have food ready like a good little host would," I retorted, hopping up onto a counter. Stolid eyes drilled into my grinning face. He held the look as he moved my legs to the side, slipping into the cabinet underneath.  
"What're you making?"  
"Instant ramen. Seems like the type of garbage you probably eat on a regular basis."  
"Says the man who has instant ramen readily on hand,"  
"Touche," He relinquished, setting a kettle on the stove. He turned to face me again, face unreadable.  
"So."  
"So."  
"You didn't answer my question from before,"  
"Which one was that again?"  
"The one about your stalking habits."  
"No clue what you're referring to."  
"Really," His voice was too sly. Slow footsteps drew him closer. My eyes grew wary and his turned feline.  
"So you have _no_ idea about the inconspicuous black car following me after school a few nights ago, abundantly obvious in their "careful" one-block-distance?"

 _Oh my god.  
_ He's known this whole time.

If Shota Aizawa could freeze any memory and place it on _his_ mantle, it would be of my whole-body flush, eyes like saucers and mouth opening stupidly, realizing I'd been caught red-handed.

Between that night's drinking and all the time that had passed, I was _sure_ I'd either imagined the whole scenario or had been sneaky enough for him not to have noticed. How could I have been so stupid as to think a professional _stealth_ hero hadn't noticed my novice tailing?

If I concentrated hard enough, could I melt my entire body down to a liquid and seep through the floor?

A warm, genuine laugh filled the air; a sound I'd never experienced before.

His dark eyes were soft, mouth again wrinkled in just the one corner. Like a little kid realizing they had the power to smile but still only half able to. I felt like I was going to faint from the dizzying warmth spreading through my chest, up my throat and swirling my brain into cotton candy.  
"Why are you looking at me like that?"  
His smile grew just an inch, eyes half-mast as he leaned against the counter and continued our staring contest. He looked almost as dreamy as my mind felt. Could he- _Is he feeling this, too?_

"You're ditzy, and sporadic. You are the clumsiest woman I've ever met, and probably couldn't fend off a tantrum-throwing second grader. Half the time you use pencils to hold up that ridiculous mass of hair. So how, then, did you worm your way into one of the most prestigious schools in Japan?"

My fingers twitched in annoyance. I lost the contest and looked away, drawing a true blank on how to answer. The gentle force of his skin against mine, pulling my gaze back to his, silenced the jitters better than my regulation ever could. I breathed in his exhale; he was so _close._

 _Your move, damsel._

"Maybe they were just spellbound by my witty personality."  
Aizawa laughed again. My lips bent, drawn by his joviality.  
 _Who is this man?  
_ "Chiyo."  
"Shota." I answered, stomach riled just from murmuring his first name. His eyes were on my mouth and my heart was off to the races.  
Drawn by invisible strings my head angled, eyelids suddenly too heavy to keep open.

 _Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!_

"Christ," I hissed, jumping half out of my skin. Aizawa sucked in a hard breath and staggered back, moment lost as the kettle alerted us of its heating completion.

 _I have never hated an inanimate object more in my whole life._

"Chick-Erm, chicken or shrimp?" He asked, running a hand through his hair and turning his back to me. The urge to submerse myself into him, rip him around and press my mouth to his, was staggering. It would hardly take any effort at all.

"Chicken."

* * *

They sat like polar opposites of a magnet, repelled to the furthest corners from one another on the six-foot couch. He noted the annoying way she slurped her noodles, and she in turn recognized his disdain for the shriveled green peas, which he picked out and furtively placed in a napkin.

"Just because you think you're being discreet doesn't mean I can't see you picking those out, you know. Don't want me to know your weakness?"

"Kiss my ass."

 _Gladly_ , she thought.

A choking spell was suddenly cast upon the woman, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Aizawa shook his head in mockery.

Every move of those soft-looking, ample legs caught his attention; the way she shifted in her seat, crossed her ankles. He didn't appreciate anyone's feet on his coffee table, but the view gifted to him upon her doing so was enough to silence the pet peeve. The sweater he'd lended her taunted him, snug on her thighs.

His fingers itched with the desire to either pull it down further or pull it off completely.

"So."

"So."

"What do you do for fun?"

"Mostly nap." _Christ, could you be any more interesting?_

"Ah," Chiyo stood, empty styrofoam cup in hand. "I am an _excellent_ napper."

Aizawa snorted. "How does one excel at napping?"

"Through practice," She began, trailing over to take his empty cup too. His eyes followed her figure as she meandered into the kitchen, easily finding the garbage bin under the sink. _Did she stalk out my apartment, too?_

"My body warms up to just the right temperature, my quirk spreads and regulates the heart and blood flow of anyone I'm in contact with, and-" She held her arms out, in the living room once more. "I'm the perfect cuddling height for men, women, and children of all ages. Just ask the kids I used to babysit, or my mom,"

"Or your mom," He repeated with a growing smile. Chiyo's confidence wavered at his tone, arms beginning to fall back against her waist. The sweater, by the grace of divinity, remained wrinkled to the level it had risen when she'd raised her arms. Aizawa sent his gratitude towards the heavens.

"It's still pretty early. You wanna show off these napping skills, or are you all talk?"

"Wh-What?"

He glanced at the clock hanging above the television. "Your clothes probably aren't dry yet, and we don't leave for the seminar until 9 tomorrow. We've got a little time to kill. So-" With impeccable ease he caught the backs of those taunting legs, guiding her natural collapse and bringing her close, quietly relishing her gasping surprise and obvious nervousness.

She was just as soft and warm as promised, fitting near perfectly in the crook of his arms. Deftly he pulled the blanket from the back of the couch down around them, snuggling down farther and bringing her body with his.

Chiyo rose and for a frightening second he thought she was going to leave. An odd sensation lapped against his neck; she was pulling her hair out from under him, jostled in the sudden movement of their bodies, before lifting his arm and placing herself underneath.

With her body pressed into his, Aizawa became abundantly aware of her lack of clothing- namely around her chest. He shifted, glad to have chosen sweats over anything remotely fitted.

"So, now wh-"

His words tapered as the strangest sensation he'd ever experienced suddenly began coursing through his very core. As if he could feel every individual drop of blood running through his veins, warm and lethargic as hot chocolate, weighing down his bones, cushioning his soul.

He'd heard they used weighted blankets in the sensory rooms at school to calm overstimulated students, but had never fully understood their effect.

Lying here, compressed by what could only be Chiyo's quirk, was the most secure, soothing feeling Shota had ever experienced. He breathed a long, winding breath, and her lips smiled against his side.

"Deep touch pressure releases serotonin, which promotes relaxation. It's weird, I know, but I've been doing this for so long that it just sort of...spreads," Her breath warmed his skin; tickled even. He couldn't have moved away if he'd tried.

"I'm submersed into you, too. It's kind of like a forced regulation. I can, um, I can lay on the other side of the couch or something, if you want,"

"Christ, no." Aizawa breathed, appalled at the thought. She shifted- probably to gape at his face. He didn't bother to even open his eyes.

Was this her power? Was this just the _tip_ of the iceberg? She'd said she did this all the time; who could use their power continuously like that? What secrets did she possess in that curious brain of hers, and why? She was nerves and ice, snarkiness and sincerity, grins and grimaces and subtle blushes.

With her curled against him, exactly the perfect length to hold, he felt himself slipping into dangerous waters.

Aizawa had just enough strength to wrap his arm more securely around her, hand resting on the soft curve of her waist.

"Chiyo…" His mouth, filled with sleep, could barely manage. A chuckle sounded far away from him.

"Goodnight, Shota."

* * *

I couldn't stop staring at him.

He looked like a little kid, lips parted for breathing, a glossy sheen forming in the corner of his mouth. Those dark, tired eyes were free of stress and fatigue as smoothed, calmed lids met the long lashes of their counterparts', unmoving.

His breaths were deep and far apart; he was completely, blissfully asleep.

I was lying on the couch of the most aloof, moody professional hero I'd ever met. The man I'd despised since my interview at UA Academy, whose primary goal had seemed to drive me away. Whose steely glance could silence a room of the most boisterous students. Who donated bags full of materials to stray cats and dogs and waited to walk with me to class each school morning.

When was the last time he had a full night's sleep? The clock on the wall read well past the time I should've left, but something held me in place, with him.

I could count on one hand how many real boyfriends I'd had in my life; all devolving into disinterest and vagueness on my part. Girl meets boy, girl likes boy, girl gets bored of the same routine, the same unpassionate expectations, meals, and life, girl fades into the background, spinelessly removing herself from the picture.

Intrigue wasn't something naturally inborne for me. I had been pursued before and, feeling surprised and obligated, persisted in dating the person until I couldn't stand it anymore. _Why?  
_ Because I didn't want to make a fuss. To be called a tease, or prude. To spare feelings.  
 _Because I'm the damsel waiting for the right prince to save me.  
_ I never considered I might have the power to save myself. Choose for myself.

"Will you please stop staring at me."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Aizawa caught me before I could fall, using his weight to hoist my body across his, snugly imprisoning me against the couch and himself. My face mashed against his sighing chest, temple on his collarbone, a prickly chin resting atop my head. The heart in my chest pounded ten beats harder. I concentrated desperately on regulating, on _not_ effecting his system as mine went haywire. Clearly, this failed; he breathed a harmless snicker into my hair.

"Enjoying yourself?"  
"Not nearly as much as you, apparently,"

I shifted, uncomfortable. With a wiggle my leg wedged between his, body unwinding from the tight coil it was trapped in. I let out a relieved sigh as blood flowed back into my limbs. "So is this your game- bring women over and get them cozy so they won't want to leave you?"

"I don't do that."  
I shifted and he moved, allowing my face to lie next to his on the cushioned armrest. His charcoal eyes were clear; free of the normal redness that seemed to plague him.  
"No? So what do you call this?"  
"I meant I don't bring women over," Aizawa answered simply. My eyes widened just the slightest and his lips quirked. "Just the cute, weak ones who stalk me,"  
My face flushed at the new term I'd collected. "Do you get a lot of stalkers?"  
He laughed.  
"No."  
"Let's play the question game,"  
"No."

Deft fingers snuck under his shirt, cool on his stomach. I was gratified with an instant, jerking reaction- from the cold or the feel of my hands on his skin, I couldn't be sure.

"We could play the color game instead. For each wrong guess on what color I'm thinking of, my hand gets to travel lower-"  
"What's your first question?" He interrupted, annoyed. My cheshire grin heightened his irritation. I considered before asking; "Did you go to UA Academy yourself?"  
"Yes. Did you always want to be a teacher?"  
"No. Did you?"  
He frowned. "You didn't even explain your answer. What did you want to do before?"  
"That's another question."  
"No, it's me thoroughly investigating my original due to your shitty response. If anything, I deserve extra points."  
I laughed. "I didn't know there was a point system; what's the prize?"  
"One free request of the winner's choice."

Interesting. I'd take it. "Alright. But all questions must be answered _thoroughly_ , and no cop outs. You cop out, the other person automatically wins,"

I closed my eyes, recalling my college days and how I'd struggled to choose a major.

"Originally I wanted to be a nurse, but blood and bruises and everything in between makes me want to pass out. Not really a characteristic you'd want of a nurse,"  
Aizawa grew pensive, gaze distant.  
"What?"  
"I'm imagining you in a nurse's outfit. Except instead of a hat there's just two big, idiotic bows-"

I pinched his side, _hard_. The hard muscles constricted underneath. _Ticklish?_ He didn't really strike me as the type. I slid my nails across his soft skin, testing. Tremors reverberated against my touch, but he didn't pull away. _Interesting, indeed._

"Why don't you wear your hair up more often than you do?"  
"Because I don't care."  
I squinted. He sighed.  
"It's an extra layer of protection from the world. As a professional hero I'm allotted a limited amount of privacy; anything to elevate that is desirable. Plus," The space below his temple crinkled. "I'm lazy."  
"I like your hair pulled back," I reached out, brushed the wisps from his right temple. His body grew still, eyes trained on my face, unreadable. I recalled my hand and placed it under my cheek for leverage. "Your turn,"

"Why do you and your mother look so different? Do you look more like your father, or something?"

A thousand ravens took off in my chest, loud and violent. The spike caused involuntary spasms and embarrassment colored my face. I hadn't been asked a question like that in so long, but I hadn't said any subject was off limits.  
Throughout school, students had noted and commented on our differences, from faces to eye color to heights. I had heard this question more times than any other.  
It didn't make it any less striking or uncomfortable when it was brought up, though.

The weight of his limbs pressed down my flinching calf, my shaking arm.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," His voice was soft; as soft as the fingers trailing down my arm and taking my nervous hand in his, warm from his recent sleep.  
Aizawa made me feel secure, but more than that.  
He made me feel _brave_.

 _Did I want to ruin that perception for him?_

"I don't really know. My father was killed when I was little,"

His fingers momentarily froze, mirroring his face. I shook my head quickly, smile reassuring. "It's okay! It's not a big deal; I never even knew him. I just haven't been asked about it in a long time, so I kind of forgot how jarring it can be,"

"How old were you?"  
"I'm not sure? It's all kind of blur; my first memories are of mom, so I'd say pretty young,"  
His fingers were moving against mine, soft and slow. _Why is something as stupid as that sending tingles down my spine?  
_ "Do you ever wonder about what life would've been like, had he lived?"

"No," My voice rose before the thought even could. It was something people couldn't seem to understand. "It's always just been Mom and me. She's the one who raised and loved me. She gave everything to me. I don't even know how it happened. Mom used to get a little unhinged whenever I asked about it, so I just...stopped. Especially when I realized at a very young age that a lecture about the dangers of quirks usually followed my questions,"

As a kid, I'd spend hours trying to figure out what had happened to him. After childhood, though, I'd never been overly interested- I'd had Mom. She was temperamental and crazy and so, _so_ pushy, but she was Mom. No one had ever loved or understood me more.

Clearly, quirks had something to do with the disappearance of my father. Had he been killed in an accident, or by a villian? The terrifying idea of _him_ being a villain, perhaps rotting in a prison cell somewhere, floated into my consciousness and shortened my breath. Shota was a professional hero- one who moved stealthily and apprehended criminals. _What if he had been a villain and Shota was the one to stop him? Had my father taken the lives of others? How many? Was Aizawa old enough to have been around? Surely not, but what if he had been? He'd be here, lying on the couch with the daughter of a murderer-_

"Chiyo _._ "

Strong fingers cupped my face and I blinked, suddenly aware of the serious, concerned face of Shota Aizawa hovering over mine. The tip of his nose grazed mine, he was so close. Sweat dampened my neck and horses ran through my ribcage at a breakback speed. I tried to focus on positive sensations; the matching scent of Aizawa's skin and my own, the heat of his hands, the tickle of his hair on my temple. The stampede began to fade.

"Where did you go?" He murmured. The hand was loosening but hadn't completely left, instead sliding into my hair. I closed my eyes, swallowed. _Of all the times to freak out._

"My mom chose a job that would assure she'd be home to take care of me. She never dated, or if she did she was stealthier than even you. She _never_ forced me to try out for sports, or be around people that made me anxious. She was more than willing to pay for my college tuition, but I wouldn't let her. She'd...She'd already given me so much," Pushing on, at least scratching the surface of this monster, seemed the best route. I took a deep breath.

"If...If not using my quirk was what would make her happiest and give her peace of mind, I decided it was worth it. It was the least I could do to repay her."  
"Was?"  
 _Shit, had I said 'was'?  
_ Upon peeking one eye open, I found his gaze still directly caught on mine. I lidded the eye quickly and was rewarded with his chuckle-scoff.  
"It's...complicated."  
"So I see,"

Did he see, really? He'd fallen back, breath steady. This was a variation of what I'd told Toshinori, but not a lie, either. _Should I tell him more?_ If he asked me, I would. I turned to fully face him again.

"What was your childhood like?"  
"Tiring."  
He failed to elaborate. I lithely slipped my hand down to pinch his pectoral. He, in response, let out an exaggerated hiss, writhing in pain. _What a baby.  
_ "It was a childhood. My parents were good to me, but pushy. I went to UA because they wanted me to. It was as angsty and depressing as the next teenage boy's life, I'm sure."  
"Did you date a lot?"  
"Define 'a lot,'"  
I frowned. A smirk itched at his lips, and I considered pinching him again. His eyes flicked to mine, borderline devilish.  
"When did you lose your virginity?"

 _Nope. Nope nope._

"We're done," I concluded, pushing myself into an upright position and trying to stand. His laughter and hands caught me, trying to pull me back. I gave him a withering glare, pulling away and sashaying down the hallway.

"Chiyo! Come on, don't be a baby," Aizawa called, still snickering. "If you don't answer, I win."

"Congratulations, winner!" I called back, entering the bathroom. My clothes were cool to the touch, but dry. I slipped off the cozy pullover and pushed my limbs into my own outfit, debating whether I could sneak his sweater under my shirt or something. _Stop, don't be so weird.  
_ "Can you drive me home?"  
He sat up, uniquely caught off guard. "I didn't mean to offend you, Chiyo. Really,"

I waved off his apology before hiking a thumb at the clock. "We have to be at school in less than six hours now. I need to go home; I haven't even packed."

"Of course you haven't," He mused. I clicked my teeth together, giving a full-tooth, crazed smile. Aizawa smirked but rightly didn't comment further.

"Let me grab my keys."

* * *

His posture driving caricatured his overall persona: seat nearly all the way back, long legs lax, one hand lazily on the wheel. I sat cross-legged in the passenger seat, back ramrod straight. He'd already rolled his eyes at me, of which I ignored, and was now trying not to watch my every move as I went through his glove compartment.

"Do you...live alone?"

 _Was he asking if I lived with a man? Wouldn't all of this have been wildly inappropriate if there was someone else in the picture?_

"I mean, I live with a cat."  
His attention was immediate. I turned my head, a little wary at his severe expression.  
"Give me his name," Aizawa commanded. I blinked, taken aback.  
"Um, Nasu. He's black, short, and tubby. Like an eggplant."  
His dark head nodded, face serious. "Good. That's good."

 _What?_

Before I could inquire just what the hell that reaction was about we were turning into my apartment complex, parking lot silent. I felt a pang of jealousy over Aizawa's flat and how nice it must be to never have to climb dreaded stairs or waft through the stench coming out of other apartments on the same floor. "It's over there, yeah. Park beside my car."

I turned, suddenly nervous. Did I thank him? Apologize again for this mild stalking habit of mine?  
His seat was vacant.  
I jumped as my own door opened, Aizawa watching me curiously.

"Are you getting out or what?"

He walked beside me, into the musty stairwell and down a poorly-lit hallway. If he was unnerved by the atmosphere he was sensible about it, eyes passive.  
I unlocked the door and a shadow darted out, meowing in the most pathetic octave possible.

"Nasu," I explained plainly. The woeful creature all but collapsed around my feet, still crying as if he didn't have a full water and food bowl, cat playhouse, and full-sized bed just five feet away. "I actually got him at the shelter you donated those goods to. Ever since I brought him home he's been a spoiled little oil spill."

Aizawa bent at the waist and scooped up Nasu. Bad idea- Nasu hated nearly everyone but me; even mom had never been overly accepted by my black shadow. I reached out, nervous. "Wait, he'd doesn't really-"

Aizawa cradled him like a baby, face lost in Nasu's dark fur. Nasu, in turn, looked wholly perturbed, emerald orbs nearly eclipsed by his pupils. _Here it comes_.  
Instead of erasing Shota's face from this earth, Nasu did the unthinkable.  
A deep, vibrating purr filled the hallway, fluffy paws clawing the air as Aizawa tickled his chin. I dropped my keys in shock.

"I fucking _love_ cats," Aizawa said, still pressing Nasu up to his face. "They're independent, full of heat and healing purrs, aren't overzealous, sleep at least twelve hours a day, and are smart enough to shit in a box. Plus, look at them-" He lifted Nasu under his front shoulders and held him out at arms length, wagging his sagging belly and back legs gently. Nasu, in turn, mewled in piteous delight. My esophagus filled with disgust. _Seriously?_

"Look at him. Look at his divinity," Aizawa commanded. I nodded, baffled and still a little nauseated.  
"Uh, yep."  
Aizawa released Nasu with a sigh. The bastard cat didn't even glance my way as he pranced back into the apartment, tail high in the air. _I could actually vomit.  
_ "Wow. That was...Wow. I guess I should be happy; Nasu totally hated my last boyfriend," Aizawa's eyebrows rose and my face flushed, tongue tied. "Not that we're- I just meant, he hated the last man I brought over. _Not that I bring a lot of men over, just_ -" An awkward, horrible laugh fell out of my mouth, along with all of my dignity. I gave a hard blink, trying to restart.

"Thank you, for letting me come over and for dinner. And for driving me home,"  
"Thank you for giving me the best sleep I've ever had."

Another awkward laugh escaped and I considered stapling my mouth shut. That shy, boyish smile was tickling his lips and my brain racked for a topic to fill the space, to keep him rooted in front of me instead of leaving. He beat me to the finish line.

"For the record, I think you've been gifted with a really special quirk; one worth using. You clearly do, discreetly and maybe even unconsciously, and I understand your reasoning for not, but still. It's _your_ quirk; using it for yourself or to help others, in my opinion, is not a dishonorable thing to do,"

 _It's your quirk._

Their responses, though similar, rang so differently in my mind.

He was so tall; too tall.  
With a breath I found his blood, pulled it towards my rising hands.  
His dark eyes grew in size before I couldn't see them anymore, too preoccupied with fitting his soft lips on mine.  
His hair was silky between my fingers. I brought him closer, body delirious when his mouth almost immediately responded, moving against mine.  
It was over nearly as quick as it began. I pulled away, eyes slow to open. The feel of my pounding heart was foreign, racing at a different rate than normal.  
I realized, then, that it was his.

"Good night, Shota," My mouth spoke against his. A slender hand tried to reach out for my body, head unconsciously shaking in gentle denial. I pulled away, dizzy from the sickly happiness this feeling brought, watching the collected hero act so unnaturally disheveled. Aizawa let out an incoherent grunt, moves sluggish, eyes hooded as I slipped into my apartment and slowly closed the door.

I slid down, bones blissfully heavy, heart a gooey, lovesick marshmallow.

This was, without a doubt, a dire strait to choose.

The logical piece of my mind fell silent as the rest- body, heart, and brain- performed a crazed dance, throwing all care to the wind.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

The morning light seemed less offensive today.

It had been a late night but he couldn't recall a time he'd been more well-rested.  
A scratching drew him to the back door. A calico cat, belly swollen, was looking at him with great, doleful eyes. Her body swayed with each step, meowing politely before her food and water bowls were brought out. Aizawa scratched behind her ears with a ghost of a smile.

Even dragging, he made it to school forty minutes earlier than necessary, duffle bag filled for the weekend away from home.  
Away, with Chiyo Tsutomi.  
The amount of derision he'd held for this seminar just a week ago could have tranquilized an elephant. Now, he was almost- dare he think it- looking _forward_ to the trip.  
Her car was already in the lot, which was a problem; he'd intended to offer to drive them both. If her driving was anything like the other physical actions he'd witnessed, there was a significant chance he would end up roadkill and it was still so early in the semester. He sighed, wondering how he could pitch the idea without creating an overexaggerated response from the newly-reactive woman.

Present Mic was subbing in for his classes, students glazed and spines hunched, uninterested in whatever story his friend was bragging to them about. Aizawa glowered out of sight from the students. There would be hell to pay for this lack of effort Monday morning.  
The students within Tsutomi's room seemed far more interested, faces aglow with wonder. _Who'd she snag?  
_ A small, furry animal was standing on her desk, spinning a globe three times his size on a single finger- er, paw.

" _It's all physics, students! With an understanding of science, everything is possible-"_

Aizawa wondered how the class had gotten Principal Nezu so off-topic in an _ethics_ class. He then wondered why the students seemed so much more interested in the very subject he'd been teaching about for the past _week_ when he couldn't get much more than a slow blink in response to questioning. Mild annoyance ticked his brow but didn't slow his leisure pace down the hall, discreetly keeping an eye out for Chiyo.

Not that he'd admit that's who he was actually looking for.

A thought had been buzzing about him all morning- about her quirk, and her mother. In the safety of his car, away from attentive ears, would provide the perfect chance to voice his thoughts.  
Laughter fell out of the second floor teacher's lounge, tone warm and familiar. Something unknown rippled in Aizawa's chest at the sound. He grabbed the door handle, hesitated.  
What _was_ he to her? How, exactly, was Chiyo going to react after last night? Did he- or she- think they were more than the other did?

He'd thought she was a mirage on the track; some strange, disturbingly attractive and clumsy ghost he'd dreamed up, maybe from fatigue or unconscious desire. He _had_ been thinking about her, and the soft curves of her legs in the dress she'd worn to school that day, when suddenly he'd felt another presence. He slipped into a shadow of rain and then there she was, freaking out in a puddle of rainwater and filth, holding onto her head like it might snap off.  
Upon drawing closer he'd witnessed the frozen rain, caught in time and humming around her crumpled body, as if fighting to shield her. _But shield her from what?  
_ He hadn't asked her, didn't want to scare her off. She was interesting and, mostly unbeknownst to her, sensual. Not in the over-the-top way Kayama was, but softly. The way she flicked her eyes, how she touched his face, the nape of his neck.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him.  
Now that she had, his mind kept returning to the taste of her lips, his own personal idea of luxury.

He took a breath and made the plunge, pushing open the door. Chiyo and All Might- Toshinori, he reminded himself- sat across from each other, sipping from paper coffee cups and talking quietly. Her smile was bright and open, body comfortable in his presence. The skeletal body of Toshinori seemed a little more tense, the prevalent reddening of his cheeks apparent from even where Aizawa stood in the doorway.

He knew he'd forgotten something.

"Aizawa!" Toshinori greeted, friendly. An unreadable flicker widened Chiyo's eyes as she turned towards him. Then, like dawn, her face cracked into a luminescent grin. Aizawa ignored the sudden roil of his stomach.  
"I can't believe you're here this early; you know we don't leave for almost another hour, right?"  
"I could tell you the same thing; I'd expected you to show up two minutes before departure."  
She flung a throw pillow towards his head. Instead of easily dodging he allowed the plush cushion to lose inertia against his face. As expected, Chiyo let out a gasp and was instantly in his personal space, hands around his jaw and wide eyes surveying for injuries. His small smirk broke her concern and she quickly pulled away. Pink tinted her features.  
"You're the worst."  
"That's my line."  
They stood, probably looking coolly, quietly infatuated with one another, in total silence. Her hair was pulled from her face today. The smoothed surface of a mole, just kissing the hairline above her right ear, was newly visible. The idea of connecting the beauty marks, creating a constellation, crossed his mind.

A throat-clearing cough from Toshinori tore Chiyo's gaze away, bouncing with embarrassment.  
"Toshinori was just telling me about the _last_ seminar you went on,"  
Aizawa's hair rose with the glowing of his eyes. "We vowed to never speak of that."  
"No, _you_ vowed to never speak of it," Toshinori rejected with a laugh. "If anything, you should be honored you got to participate in the activity."  
"A speech on student engagement and you fell asleep in the front row. How...typical," Chiyo's voice was as ill-natured as her face. Aizawa scowled.  
"Snideness is most unbecoming of a woman, Tsutomi."  
"Oh, so you recognize me as a woman now, Aizawa?"  
"I'd really hate to see how you two are going to get along for an entire weekend," Toshinori joked with a nervous scratch at his head. Chiyo sniffed, face turning away, but the edge of her smile was just apparent from her profile. As if they shared a common secret she wasn't quite willing to reveal yet.  
The thought of sharing a weekend away with just Chiyo, separated by one thin wall, brought Aizawa back to the uncomfortable task at hand.  
He hitched a thumb towards the door, face bored.  
"I don't know if you're aware, but Principal Nezu is in your classroom teaching about physics. Is that the lesson plan you left him?"  
Chiyo choked on her coffee. Which, Aizawa realized, had probably been bought and brought to her by Toshinori. _Not a good sign._

" _What?"_ Chiyo jumped up from the couch she had returned to, coffee sloshing from her cup. Droplets stained the cotton of her dress and she cussed. _Couldn't she just pull the liquid out with her quirk?_ "Did he read the lesson plan wrong? Ethics and physics don't even sound that much alike..." She hurried past him, halfway out the door before she shot an apologetic smile at Toshinori.  
"I'll text you, okay? Have a good weekend if I don't see you before we leave!"  
An awkward silence seeped into the room. Aizawa sighed- his favorite icebreaker.

"I wanted to talk to you-"  
"Do you have a moment to-"

They stopped, surprised as they each tried to begin a conversation. Slowly the stealth hero moved to the couch Chiyo had vacated. Her shape was still imprinted in its cushions. He sat, legs and arms crossed, more obviously closed off than he preferred. Before he could speak Toshinori leaned forward, looking serious.

"It's...About Chiyo Tsutomi."

* * *

 _What the hell is he doing?_

Our cuddly principal was standing on a massive globe, balanced on one foot (er, paw?) as the students vigorously took notes, hanging on his every word. I was slow to enter the room, afraid to imbalance my employer.  
"Ah, Ms. Tsutomi!" His voice, cheerful and calm, relayed the opposite reaction I was currently experiencing. I glared around the room, searching out the student I'd left to instruct the principal on what curriculum to cover.  
Tenya Iida's scarlet face was trying to hide behind the notebook he was furiously writing in, glasses shaded and obscuring his eyes. I cleared my throat and he ducked even further into his notes.

"Principal Nezu!" I tried to mirror his animation, faking calm. Several students giggled. _Damn_ , they were already able to recognize my false tones. "I think you might've been led astray on what today's lesson concerns. Will you- May I help you down from there?"

"Ah ah ah!" A white finger (paw?) waggled in my direction. He still stood one-legged on the globe, now dangerously beginning to roll. "Iida explained to me the trouble he's having in Mr. Aizawa's class, so after a brief vote we chose to change this hour into remedial physics! I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?" I laughed, more crazily than I intended. Giggles turned into snickers. Nezu shook his head with a smile. A malevolent part of me was beginning to hope the globe really would roll out from under him.

"Let me rephrase; it appears some teachers, such as yourself, have already learned how to cater to student needs and preferred methods of learning. Others...Well, it's an ongoing learning process, isn't it?"

We might be on better- dare I say- _friendly_ terms now, but the sound of Principal Nezu singing _me_ praises over _Aizawa_ was a spiritual experience I'd never found in any house of worship. I bowed my head, fighting off a grin that was clearly unprofessional. _Even still, they should seek help after school;_ _ **not**_ _during my class._

It would take something pretty astounding to get my students more interested in me over the man (animal?) doing a handstand on the globe again. I cleared my mind, breath shaky. In a single movement I moved towards the principal and pulled my thermos from my bag, the liquid innards moving through the spout and against my palm, lacing my fingers and filling the hole in the globe.

 _I'm not into the damsel in distress thing, sorry._

"Physics is fine and dandy," I began, surrounded by gasps and staggering students, marveling at the sight before them, "But there's more to heroism than the physical mechanics."

By swirling the water inside of the globe, seeping through the wood and making contact with Principal Nezu's leg, I was suspending them both, slowly revolving them like a basketball on the tip of my finger. The globe was a little heavier than I expected, especially coupled with the principal's weight, but I found the action surprisingly easy. _Maybe regulating my body all these years actually gave me more control after all._

"Wh-What?!" Iida gasped, slapping his notebook down on the table. Mineta had fallen out of his circle chair, baubles sticking him upside down like a bouncing pervert-baby. Several students shared in a gaping expression.

"How are you doing that?"  
" _Are you using your quirk?_ "

Principal Nezu continued to stand, as still as a dancer with one foot pointed, winking down at me upon one of his revolutions around my finger. I cleared my throat as the students continued to buzz like a hive of bees, seeking attention. Midoriya persisted in mumbling under his breath, lost in a different world. _Is this what Uraraka meant by his word vomit?_

"All of these questions will be answered when- and only when- the assignment for today is completed and submitted by Monday morning. _Everyone's_ ," I emphasized, sending an evil eye in Mineta's direction. He, in turn, cut his eyes away, scratching at his nose. I walked the globe (and principal) back to its stand, pulling the water away and back into the thermos to be disposed of out of sight. My skin was jittery; I hadn't used my quirk in front of this many people in years.

It felt... _exhilarating._ Like when you think you're falling only to have been halfway asleep, safe in your bed but suddenly wide awake. I wondered how Aizawa and Toshinori would react when I or the students relayed this little parlor trick to them later.  
My attention caught as the furry principal suddenly jumped from the globe and into my arms. Embarrassment riddled my bones. _What do I do? Would holding him like a little kid be considered inappropriate?_ A knock resounded throughout the classroom, saving me from the awkward dilemma as the principal hopped down instead, arms held out as if it were an Olympic performance.

Aizawa stood in the doorway, expression like a locked fortress.

"It's time to go." Was all he said before stalking off. I blinked, taken aback at the cold air left in his presence. Was it palpable? Tsu shivered and even Aoyama's annoying nonchalantness seemed to tremble. _What the hell was that?_

"Well...have a great weekend, guys," My voice was suddenly lethargic. I shook it off, turning to my somber students. I ruffled Midoriya and Tsu's hair and jointly fist-bumped Uraraka and Ashido on my way out, saluting Iida. He gave a severe thumbs up and I smiled. My class would be fine.  
My shaking legs and problematic heart might not be, though.

His lanky figure was already out of the building, moving like a black apparition across the campus. The sky was still murky from yesterday's rain. I wondered if it was replicating Aizawa's sudden mood.  
"Aizawa! Hey!" I hustled after him, legs impossibly short and slow in comparison to his long strides. "Will you slow down? Shota-" I grabbed his arm, only to nearly be knocked down as he yanked himself out of my grip. I flinched in surprise, eyes like saucers. "Aizawa?"  
"Don't," He responded, calm. His face remained cast from mine. "Just don't."  
"Don't what?" I asked, a little annoyed. "Look, if Toshinori told you about me calling you Eraserdick, I was only kidding-"  
"Who's Manami?"

If I could bottle his deadly calm, drink it like a poison, I would've.

He turned, maddeningly handsome and closed off. We'd both dressed for the occasion- semi-professional, a tie around his neck, a cheap necklace round mine. _Had he even pulled some of his hair up for my expense?  
_ "What? What's that have to do with anything? Can you just-"  
"You said you don't use your quirk to give your mom peace of mind, but that's bullshit, isn't it," He pivoted, continued his long, angry strides towards his car with feigned indifference. Irritation colored my brain and quickened my own footfalls, conflicted on which subject to broach first.

"What the hell are you talking about? What did Toshinori tell you? _Hey_ -" I grabbed his arm again, ready this time when he tried to pull away. Two red eyes found mine, though the rest of his face remained just as emotionless as the day I met him. A rock sunk to the bottom of my heart at the sight.  
"You could be great, you know that? But you're just a giant coward, hiding behind excuses and your mommy," He took a breath and the glow dimmed, eyes still locked on my frozen face.  
"Toshinori wanted to warn me about your fragileness, to look out and take care of you during this seminar. After a little digging, he told me about your run-in with a quirk very different from your own,"

My grip went slack and he extracted his arm, gentler this time. Less caring.

"You had one shitty experience and you shut down. Didn't fight, didn't try; instead you hid behind your mom's skirt tails, just like you'd been taught to do. Now, you've wrapped the world's strongest hero around your finger, huh? You've gotten really good at finding people to take care of you, I see. All that potential you possess; it's _wasted_ on you."

I didn't see logic, or last night's wonder, or how this was exactly what I'd wanted to hear one short week ago.  
I only saw red.

My hand stung.  
I looked down, watched my fingers shift color.  
His face remained turned, bare without his shield of hair as my handprint bloomed.

"I won the game last night. I get one request," His voice was foreign, distant. Dark eyes turned back to me and I blinked, throat closed, helpless to make a sound.  
"Forget last night. Forget coming over, and the things I told you. Forget that kiss," If I hadn't known better, I could've sworn his voice caught on the last word.  
But I did know better.

"I told you before- I'm not looking for a princess waiting for her shining knight- I'm not that guy. Last night was a mistake, and I'm sorry if I led you on, but I need you to forget about it."

He moved, slid into his car. With the slam of the door, the crank of the engine, I breathed in a violent amount of air, nerves settling like ash.

I wondered when I had started crying.

* * *

 _You're overreacting; chill the fuck out._

Something might've, probably, snapped inside my head.  
Instead of following him, slumping into his passenger seat and pouting like a puppy, I got in my own car and filed out of the lot. There was no way I was driving an hour and a half with him.

 _Carbon footprint be damned._

I'd woken up molten sugar, radiating happiness and nearly skipping around my apartment, kissing Nasu more times than I could count and leaving early, just to get a move on this day. _I even made a lunch for that asshole.  
_ I considered throwing it at him when we arrived but thought better of it; that's just the childish antics he'd expect, only further proving his point. The urge to scratch at my skin, feeling too tight on my bones in the humidity of my car, gnawed at the back of my mind. I cranked the AC and pushed the sensation aside.  
I was an idiot to have thought we'd ever be anything, to feed a ridiculous crush on the man across the hall, who only ever showed interest when I was uncomfortable or had something he wanted. _What did you think was going to happen?_

Curiously, where I thought there'd be sadness and endless embarrassment, I just felt... _rage_.

Sure, I hadn't exactly filled him in on the whole situation- Manami and the electric condition she'd left me in was a sensitive subject. I could count on one hand how many people who were trusted with the memory. Shota Aizawa was mistakenly added and rampaged in reaction. It had been the right call, not telling him.  
Who the hell did he even think he was, talking down to me like that? My hands clenched around the steering wheel, signaling an abrupt pass around a slow van bumbling down the interstate.  
 _All that potential is wasted on you._ What fucking potential? The potential to bless children with _nap time_ via my regulating quirk? The potential to get myself _killed_ trying to act like some mock hero like _he_ did? Who was he to criticize my choices like some tired-eyed life guru?

Yeah, my sentiments towards quirks and all related subjects took a radical pivot after an electric encounter. When you're left with nightmares that sink through unconsciousness, can find you even in broad daylight, chances are you can't just _let it go_ or _move on_ as if nothing ever happened.  
When a person is stung by a bee, they tend to avoid bees.  
When someone's attacked by a dog, they foster cynophobia.  
When my body was riddled with enough electricity to kill a full grown man, I learned to fear quirks.

But even as my mind came to the rescue, providing every logical defense to deny Aizawa's scathing words, something in my chest was curdling like soured milk.

In all this crazed drama, not knowing whether to scream or cry, I found myself instead wanting to laugh _.  
_ I might've just been lured, caught, and gutted, but it felt strangely... _freeing._

 _Because it's what you've thought about yourself this whole time._ Something clarified from the rotten little pit it had dug between my ribs. _Because deep down, you know it was a cop-out. Someone just finally put it into words._

My hands were shaking; this time, it had nothing to do with my condition.  
In safety of my car, I realized being called out had felt almost... _good_. Not having to hide behind some calm, submersed persona and pretend to be something I wasn't, instead letting my heart race and anger burn through my arteries as his words slammed into me.  
Had I been hiding behind my mom, trying to be the person she wanted me to be? Sure. Her fear was my greatest weakness. I did everything in my power to give her peace of mind- if my safety was what she needed then I was willing to sacrifice risks, reign in the emotions that swept so many of my friends into stupid situations. It didn't mean I couldn't feel- I just didn't to the degree they did, wild and careless and full-ranged. Unregulated.  
Because I had, once. And look where we ended up.  
The parties. Friendships outside of acquaintances. Chances.  
I'd given them all up for her.  
 _...Right?_

His cool words had struck a forgotten chord and awoken that sleeping siren, whose wake-up call I'd deactivated so long ago. It stretched its long limbs, flicked a smug wave from its new residency in my chest.

Maybe I was a coward, spineless.  
But maybe it was for different reasons than I'd thought.

* * *

He hadn't really expected her not to ride with him.  
And he _really_ hadn't expected her to be as good of a driver as she proved, maneuvering through traffic like a demon built for speed and agility. _If only she could walk as smoothly._

Toshinori's words swirled like a miasma throughout the drive, from the serious tone of his voice as he explained Chiyo's handicaps to the retelling of the trial by electrocution.  
He and Toshinori harbored very different sentiments concerning the event.  
While the all-powerful hero pitied Chiyo's history and saw it as a reason to protect the woman made of porcelain and glass, Aizawa was engulfed in fury; both at the sick little sparkplug but at Chiyo herself.

He'd seen, felt, her abilities. With a little badgering Toshinori had admitted he knew Chiyo was in near-constant use of her quirk, quieting the tremors that shook her appendages now and then. Aizawa couldn't use his own quirk for more than a few minutes at a time; All Might had been resorted down to just three hours a day.

And yet Chiyo Tsutomi was in near constant use of hers.  
 _Imagine the control and power reserves she must have._

He might've lost his cool, went overboard in his sentencing. He had half-expected her to make a reprisal on the ride over. That theory died when she went rogue at their departure, never once turning back to glance in his direction.

She must have arrived quite a while ahead of him; her car wasn't even warm. He took a quick survey of the groups of men and women milling about, trying to spot the sticky-bun of a hairstyle she'd had that morning.  
Aizawa noticed a swivel of heads following a figure, hair being ripped at by small hands until a mane fell out, striking like vipers in the cooled breeze the rain had brought. _Bingo._

He'd just caught her shadow, fingers centimeters from grazing her arm when she disappeared into the building. The cacophony of a thousand people created its own sort of silence; Chiyo disappeared instantly. Aizawa cursed under his breath. Different guest speakers had varying times throughout the day, and neither UA teacher had made a specified schedule. For the time being he could do nothing but keep an eye out for her figure; those curved legs and bright dress and wild, freed hair the only telltales since she was nearly a head shorter than the crowd that swallowed her.

With a sigh he succumbed to the commotion, brain dancing over the irrational reaction he'd struck down a fellow teacher with and whether he should apologize.

He'd meant what he said- she had a truly remarkable talent. And, regardless of her clumsy, jittery behavior, she possessed a concise mentality bred through ethics and logic, giving her an edge so many pro heroes seemed to barely scratch the surface of.  
He didn't see Chiyo Tsutomi for her limitations, but the mass potential of her raw talent and fluid nature, the level-headedness she hid behind instead of wielding to her advantage. _So why didn't I just say that?_

Because Toshinori Yagi had spoken so earnestly he was forced to look away. The unfamiliar feeling roused by the earlier sound of her laugh had returned with a vengeance, declaring itself with the realization Chiyo had shared her past with their mutual coworker- one who was still laced in bullshit and lying through his teeth and yet she still chose _him_ , fled to _him_.

He shouldn't care; he _knew_ he shouldn't. At the time Chiyo was barely more than the mild annoyance across the hall, whose voice occasionally teased him between classes and stumbling footsteps disrupted his afternoon snoozes.

And yet.

And yet the green-eyed monster had inflected his tone, tensed his jaw at the sight of her smiling, goofy face, raged against the way she said his first name.  
He'd acted childishly.

The lights flickered, noting a guest speaker running through one final warm-up exercise before he began. Aizawa slouched into a back row.  
His message had been misconstrued through jealousy and unwarranted anger. Even if he wouldn't express the reasonings, he would apologize for his behavior towards her.

Just as soon as he slept through this presentation.

* * *

I was _beyond_ out of my element.

UA may have been the most prestigious hero-program school, but it certainly wasn't a singular academy. Groups of teachers, some with outfits as wild as Kayama's, milled about, louder than cicadas in their peak season as they greeted old acquaintances and introduced fellow teachers.  
And then there was me, wild-eyed and quietly panicky, vigorously pounding on my phone as if I were trying to kill its soul.

 _-Why would you tell Aizawa everything I told you in confidence?  
_ _-I didn't WANT other people to know.  
_ _-Why did you even bring it up? More importantly; why did you think I'd need protection at a public seminar? I'm not some stupid little kid, Toshinori.  
_ _-You know what, don't respond. I don't want to hear anything you have to say._

My rapidfire texts provided no time for a response. I powered off the screen and threw it back in my bag. There had been a fat red " _4_ " above the phone icon; Mom had tried to call me when I didn't show up for our weekly dinner last night, and subsequently tried a few more times even after I explained my whereabouts via text.  
I bent at the waist, temple in hands and knees spread in a way Mom would surely scold. My index finger typed nonsensical morse code against my skull, regardless of regulation.

I'd been told off by Aizawa, I was fighting with my only adult-age friend, and I was pretty sure my stomach felt tight with pre-period cramps.

All in all, this was a pretty shitty day.

"Hi, are these seats taken?"  
I looked up in time to watch a grinning woman fall into the seat next to me. Two others, one smiling and the other looking rather tired followed suit. I glanced around. _There are vacant seats everywhere. You really couldn't choose somewhere else to sit?  
_ Maybe this was probably for the best; I'd be a lot harder to spot amidst a group of others.

Not that I expected Aizawa to try and find me, anyway.

I straightened my posture, glanced at my watch. If I'd read the schedule correctly, the _Teachers Against Trauma_ lecture would be starting any minute. This didn't stop the woman on my right from continuing to gush idiotically about her "one true love" and how manly he looked today. She didn't even seem bothered by my lack of attention; every five seconds she'd start laughing hysterically, patting my arm like we were old friends.  
I considered just leaving altogether- who would even notice? There was no attendance check- I could leave _right_ now and be home in time for-  
The thought quaked out of existence as my chair was nearly uprooted. The woman had rocked forward, slapping her knee and laughing till she was on the verge of tears. _What's wrong with this woman?_

"Ah, sorry, sorry! I get a little carried away!" Her hand on my arm was filling me with locusts. I pushed her blood away with an unconscious nod. She pulled away accordingly, seeming not to notice my assistance. "I just get a little misty eyed when I see my husband walking around so dressed up!"  
I noted the lack of a ring on her finger. She caught me looking and threw the hand behind her head, grin full of cheese.  
"Well, he might not _know_ he's my husband yet, but we're truly meant to be! Even our zodiacs are compatible- a love written in the stars, so to speak. Truly star-crossed lovers!"  
I honestly couldn't tell if she was joking or not. I gave a polite smile, debating whether to pull my phone back out just to look busy.  
She was that intimidating kind of friendly, like the beloved girl in high school who was popular for that exact reason- because she was just genuinely _nice_. There was nothing more intimidating than sincerity to insecure females like myself.

A flash of grey eyes and sobering truth knocked about my brain, planting a seed of second guessing into my insecurities.

"Are you seeing anyone?"  
"I'm looking at you right now," I answered, taking a risk. Jade eyes blinked in surprise. I tried to smile, showing the humor I'd tried and clearly failed at. In seconds she was roaring with laughter, slapping my back hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Hey, that's pretty good! I like you!"  
 _That makes one of us, at least._

Before I could respond the stage lit up, music reminiscent of All Might's commercial theme song crescendoing from backstage. _Saved by the music._

I caught snippets of the lecture, mostly lost in my own thoughts. Professional development sounded fancy and important, but really we were told the same regurgitated information, just in new voices and formats. _Aizawa wasn't wrong about a time waster, that's for sure.  
_ I wondered where he was. If he was somewhere in the audience behind me.

My lungs constricted every time his stupid face appeared in my thoughts. On one hand, I was pretty sick of his put-downs. From day one he was over-the-top asinine, pushy and questioning and generally infuriating, destabilizing what I'd worked so hard to build around myself. I wasn't just some punching bag stress reliever.

But then there was the person who had waited outside on a rainy day, umbrella in hand as I ran haphazardly from the parking lot, meeting me halfway and taking my bags with a tame comment about my stupidity. Who'd noted my exhaustion on Mondays and genuinely, bizarrely offered up a yellow sleeping bag for use during my prep period.  
Whose mouth had responded so quickly to my own, gentle but urgent, that I'd stayed up half the night thinking about it.

Plus, on the other, more-terrifying hand, he'd told me what I always wondered, what I think I always wanted to secretly hear; that my life hadn't and shouldn't be defined by one single moment. His anger stemmed not from animosity at _me_ , but at the fact that I could be more than I was. A jolt of pain slithered across my skull.

 _Could I...Did I disagree with him?  
_ I might have chosen the wrong path, _maybe_ , but did that mean it was too late to divert from this chosen route?

Applause burst the silence like a bubble. I brought my own hands together, absentmindedly standing when the woman beside me did. A death grip suddenly pinched my arm and I let out a hiss, quickly turning towards my aggressor. The aqua-haired woman stared intently at something behind us. I followed her gaze, only to find someone else already watching me, steps purposeful and fast.

Shota Aizawa's look was even more severe than before.

Fight or flight kicked in like a lightning strike. I slammed my arm down, breaking the joker's grip and scooping my bag in one fell swoop.  
"Sorry, but I've really got to go- lots of presentations to catch today! It was nice meeting you!" My apology was as quick as my break for the closest door, hoping to get lost in the rising crowd. The woman turned, surprised, and I threw out a little wave, just as a looming presence shadowed her features.

" _What did you say to her?"_ His voice broke through my movement. I nearly stopped, turned around to see what was happening. _They know each other?_ I was glad I hadn't said anything too personal.

For the rest of the day I applied my wallflower, blend-in ability at maximum power, never once running into Aizawa and spending the remaining mind-numbing lectures locked inside my own mind, chasing maddening thoughts like escaping white rabbits.

* * *

The hotel was a lot ritzier than I expected.

The bedsheets appeared to be made out of angel feathers, creamy in texture and color. The pillows embraced my woozy head better than even Midnight's bosom. I let out a blissful sigh, kicking off my pinching heels and wriggling out of the tight-waisted skirt to truly become one with the bed.  
Principal Nezu had allotted such a gross amount of money I could afford to use _room service-_ an extravagance I'd only ever seen in movies. A multi-paged menu blessed me with endless options. I propped the glossy pages up on my chest, acting as a thin filter from the finally-subsiding noise across the room.

A persistent knocking had rattled my door not long after I'd crashed into the bed; hesitant at first, but growing agitated by my obvious, ignoring presence inside. Eventually he gave up, but something told me he'd be back.  
He told me to leave him alone. So I was.  
In the most childish way possible.

The bath upheld the sheet's high expectations, accommodated by fizzy jets and sweet-smelling potions. I soaked until my skin matched Recovery Girl's. Long-legged thoughts continued to meander around my tired brain, poked holes through the paper-thin walls of my intrinsic beliefs and peeked in with curious eyes. I held my breath under the water's surface until the thoughts shriveled like my lungs.

I pigged out on more food than I could've ever afforded on my own wages, watched trash tv, and off-handedly worked on using my quirk without destroying anything. My nerves still fizzled at moving water outside of my own body. It was a manageable pain, like reading too late into the night and struggling through the drowsiness eating away at the words.

I'd just stumbled upon the bouquet of dying summer flowers on the table, seeping water into their wilted petals, when severe knocking from the door nearly caused me to explode the entire vase. Limbs gave a violent flinch before settling, fear quickly heating into anger.  
"Didn't you get a clue from before? I don't feel like talking to you," I grouched, tying my bathrobe tightly closed and heading towards the vibrating door. "I'm coming! You are so neurotic, you know that-"

Fingers had barely released the handle before the door crashed open. My shriek was cut short as a large hand wrapped around my throat, the other hiding my mouth. I squirmed, nearly lifted off the ground by the colossal being holding me hostage. Panic, shock, and oxygen loss bulged my eyes, hands helplessly scratching against the meaty fingers fastened like deadlocks to my skin.  
 _Chiyo, focus._ I tried to feel the blood running in his veins. No luck; my brain was screaming for help, too far gone to be of any use or controlled.  
The door, which had slammed shut upon his violent entrance, unhinged with a thunderous clatter. In my hazy state I could just make out two glowing red eyes, hair in a whirlwind of gravity defiance. In an instant he was gone and so was the grip on my throat, air rushing like a freed dam. Spit coated the floor as I gagged, holding my throbbing neck. _What the fuck is going on?  
_ "What...the fuck...is going...on," I panted, moving on wobbling legs to a standing position. Aizawa was ruthlessly kicking the unmoving body of my assailant, dark hair still raised as if electrified. No response was coming from the crumpled mass on the floor. I moved, hesitant, to take hold of Aizawa's arm.  
"I think he's down," I spoke quietly. Eraserhead's motions slowed, though his breath sounded as ragged as mine. I kept my hand on his arm, gently leading him away from the slumped body. He took a deep inhale. With it, his features began to de-escalate and the Aizawa I knew returned.

"Who the hell is that? What...What's going on?"  
"Trauma training." He glanced around. I wished I had thrown away all the takeout boxes after my gorging fest, noting the significant piggishness of our surroundings. If he noticed he didn't say anything. _Clearly there's more pressing matters here, jackass.  
_ "It's probably one of the speaker's irrational ideas to have some of us experience trauma first hand, not taking into account the various types of instructors involved in this. Come on, you're not safe in here."  
He moved towards the door. I remained nailed to the carpet. Aizawa turned, expectant, and I startled, feeling indignant.  
"Where do you expect me to go?"  
He continued to watch me. A vein was still obvious above one dark eyebrow, as if he still hadn't fully calmed down. _I'm glad to see he wouldn't use this tactic on the students, at least.  
_ "You can stay in my room; it'd be safest."  
I debated taking my chances in the murder room. He seemed to notice this, annoyance growing.  
"Listen, I'm not saving you again, Tsutomi. Now come on so we can get this weekend over with."  
 _The weekend might pass quicker if I stayed and was consequently murdered,_ I thought unpleasantly. I followed him nonetheless, quickly collecting my belongings and trailing behind him down the hall.

His room was a carbon copy of my own, sans food boxes. I wondered if he'd even eaten. He unwound his scarf and tossed it onto the table, pacing around and scratching at his hair. I stood, awkward and still rather stunned by the events of the past ten minutes, hair in a towel and body clothed in an abundantly fuzzy bathrobe. At last he looked at me, giving my body a once over.  
"You can have the bed. I'll take the couch."  
"Okay," I complied, unwilling to give up the better-than-chocolate sheets and pillows I'd never get to experience again. His right cheek twitched, moving his mouth in something similar to a grimace.  
 _Valid,_ I thought. _Bet he was hoping I would be the courteous one._ Wrong _.  
_ He looked like he wanted to say something- he was totally going to say something about this morning. I faked a yawn and cratered toward the bed like the exact coward he accused me of being.  
"Well, I'm pretty tired. Can't wait for the explanation of this little test tomorrow. Sleep well," I melted into the sheets like butter on potatoes, carefully keeping my back to Aizawa. There was no sound for a prolonged moment. I held my breath, counting the time by the frantic heartbeats shaking my chest. Finally there was a soft exhale before the bathroom door closed like an exit cue. I pulled the covers over my head, quietly freaking out.

Twenty-four hours ago, this would have been my ultimate fantasy.

Now, I was forcing my heart rate to decrease, dangerously slowing my system to force fatigue. I didn't want to think about how Aizawa's point was proven one-hundred percent accurate just moments ago, when I was helpless in the face of violence, or how he said he wouldn't save me again. _Did he mean that?_ Surely they wouldn't attack again- let alone the room of a known professional hero who'd left a...what, _actor?_ in a pile of black eyes and bruises a few rooms over.

And what the hell _was_ that? Toshinori had made Eraserhead sound like the infinitely logical, poised hero others should strive to be like. My stomach churned, recalling the brutality of his attacks long after the attack had been felled. Something told me that was a sincerely out-of-the-norm episode for the heroic enigma.

So _why,_ then _?_ Because of me? _Ridiculous._ He'd seemed pretty pissed about the entire scenario; maybe the total lack of logic behind this stupid seminar had pushed him off the edge. _How many others like me were attacked?_

He'd opted out of the cavernous bathtub and chosen the shower, the pattering from the spout an obvious tell. I tried not to think of his slender, smooth-lined body just one room away, bare of clothing and glistening. I buried like a mole deeper into the blankets.

The door opened and out he walked; I could sense the steam pressed around his skin. There was curious shuffling against the far wall. I peeked between the sheets to catch him rummaging through a duffle bag, nothing but a towel strung around his waist. The steady regulation of submersion stoppered my unnatural, heart-thudding desire to sink into the water still dewy on his calves, the crescent-shaped scar on the curve of his spine.

The towel fell and suddenly Shota Aizawa was flawlessly nude for ten seconds before pulling on a pair of boxers and a soft-looking T-shirt.

 _Maybe I've been overreacting- if I apologize, all this could turn into something much, much-_

"So what happened to Manami?"

Scratch that thought.  
Throw it into a deep, dark abyss, never to be seen again.

I maneuvered around to reach the pillows, pulling my face out enough to be audible.  
"What do you mean?"  
Aizawa fell onto the small loveseat, tucking in for the night.  
"She electrocuted you to the point of unconsciousness, right? Kids can't just abuse their quirks without severe repercussions. Was she sent to a reform school?"  
"Oh." I'd never even thought about it. "I don't know; Mom pulled me out and transferred me to a private school for non-quirk students."  
Aizawa snorted- a response I expected.  
"You weren't quirkless, though."  
"I never used my quirk out in the open again, so no one ever knew the difference,"  
From my vantage point I could see him in profile. The scruff of usual had been trimmed for the weekend trip, accenting his strong jaw. His hair was a wet knot near the back of his head. I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.  
"Does your mom know?"  
"Know what?"  
"That you've been using your quirk this whole time,"  
"No."  
His shoulders tensed. Before he could turn to fix me with a questioning stare I leapt under the covers, hiding like a tortoise in its shell.

Of course I couldn't tell her; it was my darkest, most well-kept secret.  
Because if she knew, it would be the biggest betrayal of all.

* * *

Sleep was more achievable than expected; the next time I opened my eyes, the red stick figures of the clock read _3:35._ I shut out the light, annoyed for having woken up at all, but my drowsiness was quickly fleeing.  
I was lying on my back; unusual, as laying smash-faced on my belly or curled into the fetal position was more my speed. I tried to turn, favoring my left side, only to find a strange restraint preventing the movement. _Wait a second._

A soft weight anchored my hand off the side of the bed. My arm suddenly tingled with the realized lack of blood flow. I gave my fingers a twitch.  
They moved against someone else's.  
Terror wracked my brain. Was this another idiotic trauma exercise? I slithered closer to the edge, peeping just my eyes over the rim.

Shota Aizawa's long body was lying on the carpet, hand wrapped around mine and face blissfully unconscious. I gaped. _He chose sleeping on the floor for my regulation rather than the cushioned couch?_ I scooted closer to run a finger across the lashes of his right eye.  
Not even a flutter.  
It still amazed me people could sleep with their mouths perfectly closed and still breathe enough air to survive. The planes of his face were smooth, unwrinkled by exhaustion or worry. Shota Aizawa looked almost...boyish, without the annoyed tick in his brow or scowl clenching his jaw. My lips pulled upward at the sight.

He'd told me to forget the kiss, but I couldn't. Not yet.

It took more concentration than I'd almost ever used, focusing on balancing out his blood, every single capillary. A dull ache warmed the back of my skull and a leg gave an involuntary quake. Ignoring the discomfort, I kept skin-to-skin contact as I moved him across myself and onto the other side of the bed, placing him on top of the downy comforter. He didn't even stir.  
 _Would he be mad?_ I built a wall of pillows between us before falling onto my own, suddenly more weary than I had been all week.  
My hand snuck underneath the wall, searching out his. I wrapped one lone finger around his pinky; enough contact to spread my quirk through the both of us.

I hadn't saved or protected a life, certainly.  
But maybe it was a small, discreet start.

* * *

Hello, readers. I just wanted to thank you tremendously for continuing with my little story. I hate breaking into the reading experience, so I try to keep these little blurbs sparse. Please know that I'm overjoyed knowing _anyone_ reads this besides my cat, who attempts to sit on my chest every time I sit down to write. See you next week!


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Even considering the amount of heroes and well-trained professionals at this seminar, I still couldn't believe they'd try and _abduct_ some of us. I, certainly, hadn't been the only one, and the more accounts I heard in the hotel hallways and lobby the more I realized: the non-quirk or "regular school" attendees had been targeted. I decidedly kept my mouth shut for two reasons:

One: I was an instructor at UA Academy, the most prestigious hero school in the region, and would've been abducted easily due to my lack of power and general cowardice.

Two: I wasn't abducted because a colleague instructor, who both dislikes me and views me unfit for his school, saved me with little to no effort.

Reason one outshined reason two for why I wasn't sharing my own experience, but the latter was a sledgehammer into my glass morale. I'd even used my quirk _that day_ in front of an entire class and yet couldn't even stop a singular intruder. Aizawa's mockery shot bullets through my soft tissue. Would I really rely on others, like him and All Might, to always be there for the rescue?

I slipped out at the crack of dawn, Aizawa still in a euphoric dreamland, and took nest in a diner walking distance from the seminar. The food was piled high and drowning in syrups and grease, shining like gold under the overhead lights- just how I liked it. The waitress had given me a weird look when I asked for soda in lieu of tea or coffee but otherwise I'd been left to my own devices, sitting with my back against the window, knees bent and feet on the booth seat.

Coffee had never impressed me all that much; I just hadn't known how to say no to my sunflower of a friend each time he'd thought of me on his way to school. Besides, his smile was worth every bitter-tasting drop.

I glanced down at my phone. The screen was still black, inactive since yesterday morning.  
I couldn't decide what would be worse: if there were a dozen voicemails and emoticon-filled texts or if there were none at all.  
 _Only one way to find out.  
_ The starting icon gave way to the pin verification screen. I punched in the code, ready to see the damage, when the phone immediately began to frantically vibrate.  
An awkward, grinning Toshinori smiled up at me, face red and one long arm bent as he scratched that bundle of straw he called hair; the picture I'd chosen for his contact photo.

"Hello-"  
" _Chiyo_ , _are you okay?_ " His answer was panicked, forgoing pleasantries. "Reports of the trauma-simulation broke out in the night; I was so worried-"  
A strange, not wholly unpleasant feeling filled my mouth as he relayed his fear over my safety, made me promise I was fine, and that no, I didn't need him to come get me.  
"It's fine, Toshinori, really. Aizawa...He, um, saved me." I nodded as the waitress wandered over, pointing at my drained glass. "It was nothing in comparison to what _you_ did to me."  
"Chiyo, words cannot express my sorrow for betraying your trust. However," His voice changed, grew thicker, "I don't regret informing Aizawa. Had this scenario occurred and he didn't think to check on you, who knows what could have happened?"  
"What the hell are you talking about? It was a _professional development affectation._ Nothing would have actually happened to me-"  
"And if it hadn't been? If it had been a real attack?"

A rogue flashback of my mother drifted into sight, like an old home movie.  
" _But what if something happens? What if there's a stranger? I could save myself- I could save someone else-"  
_ _She took my face in warm hands, eyes holding a million memories I'd never know.  
_ " _Some people aren't meant to be heroes. Run. Never, ever try to fight back; you run home to me."_

"I'm not useless," My voice displayed a newfound calmness- one not needing the aid of submersion. "I may not be the most powerful, and I'm certainly no hero, but I'm not helpless. I refuse that term."

A few years ago, soft static would've filled the lulls between conversation. Now there was only deafening silence.  
Maybe technological advances weren't always for the better.

"I still haven't forgiven you," I admitted, rattling the straw in my newly-filled glass to swirl the perfectly-square ice cubes. A sharp intake of breath cut through the phone before I continued, "However, no matter how short sighted or degrading your thought process was, I _can_ understand what you were trying to do. You're abundant in sincerity. You probably didn't _mean_ any harm, but it hurt nonetheless. I'll forgive you, eventually. But it's going to take time."

"Take all the time you need," He responded quietly. A smile drifted across my face at his candid response. "I completely understand. I really am sorry, Chiyo. I was just...I just worry about you."  
"Thanks." _But I wish you worried a little less. I wish I wasn't one to warrant worry._

We hung up on a potentially good note. I could practically feel his blush over the distance. The clock read close to nine and my plate read _stop while you can still breathe_ , so I threw some money down and stretched out of the booth.  
I looked to my phone again, fingers hovering over the screen. Mom had tried calling me twice more, the red notification now reading _6_.

I put it in my bag.

I wasn't professional material, certainly. _Obviously.  
_ But if I could save myself-  
Maybe I could be the hero in my own narrative.

* * *

 _How did I end up next to this psycho again._

I just wanted to get through today as quickly and efficiently as possible.  
Turned out the seminar would be cut short due to several trauma scenarios getting out of hand last night. It was just a crowd littered with professional heroes and well-trained hero academy instructors attending; what could've gone wrong with feigned, masked kidnappers breaking into their rooms?

I figured they'd do a half-assed summary of the events and we'd be out of here by lunch, giving me just enough time to drain the remainder of my food money on Hibachi. I could already hear the sizzle of the grill. My mouth watered like a Pavlovian dog, drool pooling as I fell into the second row in the main auditorium, hoping to go unnoticed by the milling people also filing in. A sudden twitch jerked my shoulder and my bag slammed into the ground from the force. I cussed under my breath; of _course_ I hadn't brought my laptop's protective case for the weekend trip- why would I need it for a boring PD event? An ocean of glossy seaweed blocked my view before I could lean over and assess the damage. In an instant it rose, smile wide and dopey.

"We meet again!"  
"Oh," Was my intelligent response. She continued to smile as I picked up my bag, awkward and tired. "Hey, if I try and move to a different seat, are you just going to follow me?"

The lady roared with laughter, arm rising for a friendly slap. Trained by reinforcement, I quickly submersed into her arm and changed its trajectory, slicing harmlessly through the air just next to my shoulder. For a fraction of a second she looked surprised, as if aware of my tampering, and I wondered if I'd been mistaken to infiltrate her like that. I swiped at my nose, making sure it hadn't started bleeding like some possessed child's after using my quirk without the skin-to-skin interaction I was used to, and quickly stuck out my hand, trying to replicate her friendly expression. If it was anything like my attempts at imitating makeup tutorials, I'm sure it wasn't pretty.

"I'm Chiyo Tsutomi; I don't think I ever introduced myself."  
"I'm Emi Fukukado!" She cheered, shaking my hand with vigor. "And! I already know who you are,"  
"You do?" I asked, surprised. I flinched as the fingers holding mine suddenly tightened, glancing down before looking up at her- Emi- again. She was still grinning, lips pulled tight nearly up to her ears. _Well, that's terrifying.  
_ " _You_ work at UA Academy with my future husband!"  
"Oh," _I need to find a better filler word._ "Who, uh, who's that, again?"  
"The darkest, brooding-est, most impressive writing-aid-named pro hero, Eraserhead!"

The auditorium had been steadily filling all the while we'd been talking.  
And yet, in all that discord, there seemed to be nothing but silence in my brain.

"Pardon me?" I asked politely. She still had a vice grip on my hand; an eternal handshake at tortoise speeds. I considered trying to pull away but brushed off the idea in fear of looking weak.

"Sho-Sho and I worked in close proximity to each other when we were younger and, as any true love story goes, we fell madly in love," Her eyes grew dreamy and a dash of color painted her nose as she recalled their lovely history, finally releasing my hand to bring hers together against her chest. I flexed my fingers, trying to discreetly restore their vitality. "I was Juliet to his Romeo, and at night we would sneak away from our respective agencies for midnight trysts filled with passion and shared laughter. I will never forget the budding of our beautiful relationship, or the taste of true love's first kiss. He swore his heart to me, and if Shota Aizawa is anything, it's an oathkeeper; it's just the kind of man he is-"

This was too much; this was all just too much.

After years of quiet submersion, keeping myself under the radar, out of anyone's burning spotlight, I couldn't contain it anymore.

I completely lost it.

* * *

The pros of having Chiyo Tsutomi around consisted of observing a beautiful trainwreck of a woman trying to survive the normal hardships of life- from difficult classes to raised cracks in the sidewalk- having an easy target to tease, and being gifted the most heavenly sleep one could barely even fathom.

The most damning con was those under her spell seemed to lose all control over how deep they fell into her- in regards to her personality and looks, sure- but most damningly to that delicious, heavy-handed slumber, wiping out all sense of time and reality.

Shota Aizawa had awoken, cussing but relatively calm, in a bed not his own, in a room mostly foreign to him, alone, and four hours later than his usual routine mandated. His bones felt light, muscles fluid and eyes clear, but his mind was a swarm of hornets, all vying for attention.

After several hours of insomnia he had crept over to her, debating for ten minutes whether to risk the bed or choose the floor. The blankets were enough to replicate his beloved sleeping bag and so he settled himself against the lush carpet, waiting until the last moment to slither his arm up and find her hand.

The submersion was immediate.

When consciousness next occurred Aizawa was atop the bed, albeit above the covers, head cradled as lovingly as a mother's touch by the downy pillows. Though students often thought him dead to the world, he was an exceedingly light sleeper; even submerged, any sudden noise or movement should have disturbed him.  
 _How did she manage to move me without rousing me awake?  
_ She certainly couldn't have moved him with her little noodle arms, and dragging him across the bed would have certainly awoken his senses.

The moment he had heard footsteps above, his mind filled with Toshinori's warning; about her vulnerability, and the fear that would certainly consume her upon anything going awry.

In seconds he was at her door.

The chains of rationality fell like scales from his body, quickened his step and flamed his rage at the sight of her open, voiceless mouth, skin the color of a withering violet.

He wasn't aware of himself again until her cool hand was on his arm, pulling him away from the bruised, bloodied actor.

And he wouldn't have stopped, not for a great while, if she hadn't brought him back to his senses.

He'd wanted, _needed_ to explain himself; to restore what he'd so casually destroyed in the parking lot. He'd been too callous with his words that morning and his later actions had done nothing to soothe the situation, displaying irrational violence that was so polar opposite to his usual demeanor and her intrinsic beliefs.

She was a closed wall, unwanting of his explanations. He could hardly blame her.

But it wouldn't stop him from trying.

She desperately yearned to go unnoticed around so many quirk users, but he knew from their many morning and lunch conversations she was also a bit of an overachiever, ever the astute student. Chances were, even if she feared him seeking her out, she wouldn't be able to stay out of the first few rows of wherever the meeting was, like a moth to flame.

The room was near-filled, teeming with pissed off looking teachers, bruised, shaken instructors, and an exceedingly nervous speaker on the sidelines, waiting for his cue.

And then he heard it.  
Loud, uncontrollable laughter.  
Unaware of its audience, its decibel, its crazed disposition.  
Free.

Her hair, thick and coiled like a fisherman's rope, made her easily recognizable. She was bent at the waist, head thrown towards the ceiling, facing a familiar woman with a smiley-faced belt.

 _No._

* * *

" _What did you do to her?"_

Aizawa's livid face, suddenly within our circle, was haloed by dark tendrils, standing like wintery tree limbs in a forest. The air vibrated with another bout of violent laughter. Tears were spouting from the wells of my ducts and rising in the air by my uncontrolled quirk.  
"I didn't do anything! This isn't me!" Emi Fukukado exclaimed, indignant. Maybe even frightened. _Enough, calm down.  
_ I wiped at my strewn face, lips unable to contain my grinning teeth. Aizawa and Emi watched, perturbed. Expectant. I shook my head, trying to subside my fading giggles.  
"Shota, why didn't you tell me you were engaged? To think I was barking up the wrong tree all that time."  
Aizawa's entire face paled gloriously. _Emi_ , in turn, had gone from shocked to suspicious; precisely my motive for using the man in question's first name. Not that it held a candle to her endearing _Sho-Sho.  
_ "So that line about not bringing girls over was just bullshit, right?"  
"Chiyo," He moved but my reflexes had grown overnight, pulling me out of reach.  
"No, I'm good, thanks." I picked up my bag and chuckled, scouting a new seat as I brushed past the two. A calmed resolve had enveloped my bones, clarity restored.  
 _This_ is why I followed Mom's rules. _This_ is why I stayed in my own lane, didn't toe the line or challenge the status quo. So I didn't end up the jester at another person's dinner party, dress ruined and feeling foolish.

"Chiyo, listen-"  
"No, _you_ listen," I turned, remnants of a smile itching my face. "Most girls are probably into what you do; the put-down, the cool-guy, not-giving-a-shit persona. And I think I was, for half-"

The auditorium door had opened, but it was the person nervously stepping in that caught my attention.

He was tall- one of the tallest people here, even among the various heroes. A bouquet of late summer flowers was clutched in one of his bony, nervous hands.

"Chiyo, this isn't-"  
"I have to go," I cut in, voice strange. A sunshine head of hair was glancing around, unsure. I stepped in his direction, the presentation behind me forgotten.  
"Quit being an idiot and just _listen to me for a second_."  
I turned around to fully face Aizawa. He was wearing the same button down as yesterday, wrinkled after he'd thrown in unceremoniously in a chair last night. Still handsome, though clearly taken aback by my sudden calm. For the first time this weekend, I truly felt in control.

"No, _you_ listen. I've been beating myself up over your comments, trying to find a way to prove myself to you. Because, honestly? You're right, I _have_ been weak. For so long I've let people push me around and lived a sheltered little life in safe harbors. I want to change; it's why I was out in the rain yesterday, trying to become stronger." I took a deep breath, hushed the trembling in my limbs.  
"I appreciate the way you push me to become more, but I can't deal with the hot-and-cold attitude; I can't handle the bipolar stoicism or the surprise girlfriends. So just...just do me a favor: maintain that 'oathkeeper' mentality of yours, and don't try and come to my rescue again- just like you promised last night. You keep those "sacred oaths", right? Emi can attest to that."

I exhaled the breath taken from that day in the park, in his arms. Wiped that boyish smile out of long-term memory, to be forgotten like a daydream. My feet tumbled towards the door before bold anger swiveled me around one final time.

"And by the way? The way you hide behind all those layers isn't just for pro-hero privacy's sake; it's because you're scared. Under all that shit, you're afraid of people getting to know the real you. You might think yourself a panther, but a leopard can always recognize another's spots."

Adrenaline surged through every cell, stronger than a Detroit Smash.  
The newcomer had finally caught me in his vision, frighteningly skinny body falling still. I tilted my head at the door and he exited with one final glance.  
"It was nice to meet you, Emi. I'll see you at school...Aizawa," I bid, brushing past them in finality.

This time, he didn't try to stop me.

* * *

His entire body hummed with nerves; I could feel it in his very blood. The sunlight caught his hair and set it aflame. Through all this, I felt an absurd smile curving my lips.

"What are you doing here, Toshinori Yagi?"

A thousand small movements fractured his demeanor, color creeping like ivy through him. His hands hid behind the small of his back. As if I hadn't already seen what he possessed. As if his body was thick enough to hide the peeking blooms on either side of his chest.

"When you picked up the phone- I was already in a car," Toshi admitted. I narrowed my eyes, waiting. The bouquet he held out contained petals of pale yellows and pinks and muted greens, with one great, wide sunflower placed just left to the center. Their scent was soft, hesitant to make itself known.

"I know you told me not to worry, but I'm afraid it's just in my nature to look out for people- especially those I-" His voice broke off and devolved into a nervous, quiet chuckle.

Slowly, I reached out for the bouquet, fingers crossing his. I felt the heat of his gaze but didn't glance up; I couldn't look at anything but that silly sunflower, wilting in its final glory days of summer. I tapped one finger against his.

"Do you...Did you take a taxi, all the way here?"  
"Yes."  
"That's nearly one hundred and twenty kilometers, Toshi."  
"I had to get to you. At the time, it felt like life and death."

I took in a slow breath, finally met his eyes. His expression seemed so vulnerable, even with his mildly frightening features and height. My hair shook in mild disdain.

"You spent around five thousand yen to get here; another thousand because I'm sure you tipped-"  
"He followed all the speed laws and was very polite to me! How could I not leave a generous tip-" His words tapered as I started to drag him away, still shaking my head.

"I have to check out of the hotel, then we can leave." I said, handing him my car keys and ushering him away. His grin made the bones of his face a little less jarring. I smiled back, chest lighter. I pulled out my phone and headed towards the hotel.

" _Sweetie? I've been trying to call you for hours-"  
_ " _Hi, mom. Sorry; it's just been a real busy few days."  
_ " _Is everything okay? How'd the school thing go? Did you have any problems finding the place? I waited up last night to see if you'd call with details, but-"  
_ " _I...I think I'm going to start using my quirk, mom."  
_ " _...What?"  
_ " _I'm going to start using my quirk. I have one; I might as well make use of it-"  
_ " _...It's because of that school, isn't it?"  
_ " _No, mom. I have a quirk that could help people. At the very least, I could use it to protect my students and myself."  
_ " _I never should have let you apply to that school."  
_ " _I'm an adult, mom. I don't think you could have stopped me."  
_ " _Will you come over so we can talk about this in person?"  
_ " _Mom, no, I-"  
_ " _Please, honey? I'll make chicken congee- it's your favorite. Chiyo?"  
_ " _...Fine. I'll see you when I get home."  
_ " _I love you, Chi-chan."  
_ " _I love you too."_


	20. Chapter Twenty

Being with Toshinori was like waking up to a Saturday morning, every day. Like the first bite of ice cream, soft and straight out of the carton. He smiled and I heard a hundred soda cans popping open, the draw of his lips like the crackling, energetic bubbles.  
He was awkward and easily tongue-tied. As if this was his first time just spending time with a girl. _Was it?_

We'd had a handful of dreamsicle outings, soft around the edges and reminiscent of the scenarios in those crap movies mom and I loved so much. Movies, dinner, lazy afternoon stolls.  
He came over and I made one of the only meals I knew how, astounded when he didn't even gag. I couldn't tell whether his delight was genuine or if his poker face was as solid as a professional gambler's.

On date three, I took his hand in mine.

On date five, he took mine.

He eclipsed the sun with his own golden aura- mentally _and_ physically. I felt miniscule in comparison, but it wasn't necessarily unpleasant. I _liked_ my height. I liked having to bend my head to smile back at him, or to watch the nervousness spread across his face like a silent film turning to color.  
Being with him felt foreign and so familiar, like recurring deja vu.

Toshinori seemed very frightened by my mouth. His eyes would flicker but always turn, as if watching them too long might trigger some reaction.

I wondered what that triggered reaction would feel like.

Maybe something was in the water. I felt antsy. Tonight, I'd make The Move, even if he was too shy to do so himself.  
I was spacing, looking out the window and daydreaming about the dessert bar Toshinori and I had discovered in a different area of the city when something hard shot at my temple. The class let out a uniform giggle. I shot them a withering look before facing my attacker. Annoyance sprouted like weeds.

Shota Aizawa stood in the doorway, straw hanging from his mouth. Had he _spit_ something at me? I wiped at my face, horrified at the dampness.

"Mr. Aizawa?" I asked politely. We'd barely spoken a word to each other in the past two weeks. The situation suited me fine. He didn't want me as his problem, I didn't want to feel like a yoyo tied to his lazy finger. Win-win.

It didn't mean my breath didn't still catch at the sight of him.

I'd noticed him watching me from his classroom a few days ago; his set-up mirrored mine. I'd moved my desk over half a foot that same day, blocking us from one another's view.

It was simply for the best. There would be moments where Toshi brought up a topic and would instantly remind me of some smart remark Aizawa had made about the same subject, muttered from the side of his mouth at a meeting or between classes. The day Toshinori showed up for our second movie date the sky's heavy clouds had pulled me back into the memory of Aizawa's apartment, recalling the soft, childish breaths he loosed when he'd slept beside me that rainy evening.

It wasn't fair- to _any_ of us- for me to dwell on a vanished past.

"I was instructed to inform you about an upcoming 'class trip'. As a new teacher and directly involved in the hero program, Principal Nezu deems it 'appropriate' and 'informative' for both you and the students if you also attended. There's a brief meeting after school today to go over the itinerary." He made it a point to emphasize the words.  
"Great, thanks."  
The straw bobbed between his lips. He watched me until I raised my eyebrows.  
"Is there...anything else?"  
"Guess not."  
 _What kind of answer was that?_

Eraserface pivoted back towards his room, aloof as ever. I restrained an eyeroll.

What did UA consider as a "field trip"? I sincerely doubted it was a sunny trip to the zoo. Would I be...chaperoning? Waiting on the sidelines with juice and apple slices?

The bell for lunch rang, interrupting the tranquility of my class hard at work, and I bid them a cheerful farewell.

Lunch the past few days had been quiet; Toshinori was being kept busy by All Might, it seemed- whatever _that_ entailed. I fiddled with the lid of my second lunch and glanced out the door.  
Aizawa's room was dark, but that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't in there; on several occasions, when I went to fill my thermos or run an errand, I would catch sight of him, slumped over in a hideous yellow cocoon, lights off and door wide for all to see.  
After a moment's fleeting contemplation I stood, taking both lunches with me.

Instead of being snuggled in that infamous sleeping bag the students so frequently discussed, Aizawa sat at his desk, temple cradled in one hand. His hunched shoulders created a concave spine similar to Toshi's spindly form. Two fingers extended from my right hand, reaching towards the curve of his neck, before I caught myself.

 _What on earth were you going to do, regulate his body for him?_

"Need something?" His voice startled me and I jumped in reply. Two tired eyes rose to mine.  
"No, not particularly. I made an extra lunch and thought you might like it, seeing that you can't actually survive on water and sarcasm."  
"Do you have verifiable evidence to prove your theory?"  
I gestured at him, proof enough. He let out a scoffing chuckle before bracing his hands against his desk and pushing away. I took this as a positive sign and dropped the lunch on his desk.

"You don't have to leave," He spoke to my retreating back. The thought of staying hadn't even crossed my mind. My face must have betrayed the thought because he grimaced, ushering me towards a desk.

"Who usually sits here? I won't stay if that's Mineta's usual perch,"  
"You and I both know Mineta would never choose a front row desk."

"Valid," I answered and settled in. My shoes fell with a soft patter, legs lifted to sit cross-legged in the cold chair. A comfortable silence permeated the room as we both dug into our meals; identical except for the side vegetable, as I generally avoided broccoli like the plague.

"Have you stopped running?" Aizawa directed his question towards his lunch. I pondered the question, taking it more seriously than he probably intended. With a glance up he added, "I haven't seen you on the trails."

"It's a big park," I sidestepped, "maybe you just miss me every time."  
"Yaoyorozu and Asui were discussing it. They said you told them it was 'no longer necessary'?"  
Ope. Busted.  
"I don't really need to get into any better shape; it's not like I'm aiming for a hero license or anything."

Aizawa fiddled with his chopsticks, clearly having an opinion on the matter. The loose hair and scarf hid most of the cloud darkening his features.  
"What?"  
He remained silent. I fixed an expectant stare on him until he relinquished.  
"Did your mom tell you to stop running after school?"  
Annoyance pooled in my stomach, though he wasn't far off the marker. "What if she did?"  
Aizawa held his hands up in mock defeat.  
"I heard the students discussing how you used your quirk before the seminar, and how you've vehemently denied the fact since."

"Because I wouldn't have; I'm not-" I cut myself off with a wince. A headache was sprouting just behind my forehead. Aizawa watched me like a disapproving school teacher. _Again, not far off the mark.  
_ "You're not...what? Allowed?"  
"It's not like that" I huffed. He shrugged, returning to his lunch with a passive air.  
"Looks that way to me."

"Why didn't you just tell me Emi Fukukado wasn't your girlfriend?" I blurted so suddenly even I was taken aback. Food shot from Aizawa's mouth, choking in surprise.

I'd looked up Emi Fukukado as soon as I'd arrived home, safe in the solitude of my apartment. She was a pro hero and had indeed worked at an agency close to Eraserhead's, sure, but that's where their similarities mostly ended. I had even been so pathetic as to ask Yamada about the potential couple. After laughing for ten solid minutes, tears trickling out the corners of his eyes, he'd assured me Ms. Joke was nothing but a constant thorn in Aizawa's humorless side.

If this were all true, why hadn't Aizawa just _said_ something instead of letting my imagination run rampant?

"As I recall, I tried. You didn't want to hear anything I had to say," He answered. It was my turn to pick at my lunch, unable to argue. He continued in a mutter, "It should've been obvious; that woman gives _Kayama_ a run for her money _._ "

A soft laugh escaped and he looked over at me, face peeking between his barriers.  
"Does your mother possess a water quirk too?"  
"My mother doesn't possess a quirk; why are you so obsessed with my mom?"  
He looked very surprised. I shrugged. "It's really not that uncommon; one in every five people are born quirkless."  
"But you have such a powerful quirk. It's odd to think it manifested on its own-"

"Why do people keep saying that?" I interrupted before slamming my thermos down with way more force than necessary. For the past two weeks students had commented on my "wondrous" quirk or inquired what else I could do with my abilities. Each question always devolved into a maddening headache as I struggled with a joke I clearly wasn't in on. I had no idea what they were even _referring_ to. "My quirk isn't anything special in the slightest; I mostly just use it to regulate my blood flow and, in turn, emotions. It's not like I can help anyone with it-"

"You gifted me a good night's sleep and floated my body onto the bed with critical precision," He pointed out casually. My heart skipped two beats in lurching surprise.  
"You were- I thought you were asleep."  
He shrugged, taking a long drag from his coffee mug.  
"Guess I wasn't as asleep as you thought I was."

A spigot of color splashed my neck, blotching my skin as I busied myself with anything other than looking at him. He watched me for a breath longer before falling back into his usual indifference.

"The field trip is tomorrow. Class 1-A will be going over rescue training. Because two sections of your class will be absent anyway, it makes sense for you to attend."  
"Will it be dangerous?"  
"It's all simulatory; there aren't any villainous actors like the last time we went on a field trip," He answered dryly. I shook my head at the memory. "Plus, All Might will be there, so you won't have to worry."  
"Guess you're free of Chiyo-duty then, huh?" I joked. "Will Toshinori be there, then? Since All Might will be?"  
A shadow ran across Aizawa's face; one he hid quickly with his drink. He shrugged.  
"You'll just have to ask him yourself."

A bell rang and released the students like a tidal wave from the cafeteria. The remnants of Aizawa's coffee burst from the mug with my surprise. He sat, still as a statue, face dripping dark, heavy droplets of my spontaneous rainfall. I knocked everything off the student desk in my rush over.

"Shit, I'm sorry- I hear that bell eight times a day, you think I'd be used to it-" I stammered, blotting his face with the hem of my skirt. Luckily today's dress of choice was a black jersey material; whatever I scrubbed off his face wouldn't even leave a noticeable stain.

"It's fine," Came his crumpled response. His fingers quickly caught mine, stilling the battering, drying motion, and as the fabric fell I noted his pink face, scoured too harshly by my panicked touch. We stared at each other.

"Some weak-ass quirk, huh." He deadpanned.

* * *

"I didn't clarify about Fukukado after the seminar because I knew, being the borderline stalker you are, you would look her and I up yourself," The cold fingers of her right hand gave a spasm- practical admittance. Aizawa held on just a little tighter. "But more than that, because what you said bothered me more than I wanted to admit. The exhaustion, the layers, the distancing. They're logical for a low-profile hero, but...I can see where you're coming from."

There were eyes of green and amber and indigo peeping into the classroom; the lunch bell had rang, the students were back, but he wasn't quite ready to let go of her.

It had been two weeks.  
Two weeks of watching her from a distance.  
Two weeks of Toshinori wandering nervously into her room nearly every morning, lunch, and afternoon.  
Two weeks of that beaming expression and quick laugh given to someone else.

On his weekly delivery to the animal shelter he'd witnessed them through the window of an ice cream parlor. The long neck of Toshinori Yagi bent down and whispered something in her ear. A blush tickled her nose, eyes widening before her teeth burst into a smile.

It was selfish, and _wrong_ , to want her.  
And yet the feeling grew quietly all the same, defiant against rationality.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm sorry," She answered, bringing him back to the present. The right corner of his mouth twitched; she'd just said what he'd been trying half a month to articulate. Her shoulders relaxed and an easy smile came to her. "But you're still sticking to your sacred oath, right? No saving this damsel in distress?"

He scoffed.  
"Never."  
There was a little chip in her left canine when she grinned too largely.

The meeting went smoothly, the itinerary hammered out. There were a few questions- one from Chiyo, inquiring about the "proper attire for the arena"- that were simple enough for Principal Nezu to explain without falling into a tangent. The Ethics teacher seemed only vaguely distracted by the massive presence of All Might just a few chairs over, doing an admirable job of only looking over every few minutes. Aizawa did note, dryly, the water in her opaque thermos swirling like a lazy tornado against its cylinder walls, and the foot that endlessly tapped against the green linoleum.

She'd glance around every so often, trying to seem discreet.  
 _She's looking for Toshinori._

Aizawa wasn't the only one to notice.  
Principal Nezu dismissed the faculty but asked Tsutomi to stay, needing a brief word. Aizawa rose lazily, turning out into the hall in the opposite direction of the exit.

Ever since he and Tsutomi returned from the seminar, she was different- and not just in her company preference.

She had used her quirk multiple times since her residency at UA, in front of students and himself alike; she had confided in him over how student opinions were impacting her; she'd started "training", regardless of how basic and ineffective it had been. He glanced around before entering the faculty office, thumbing through the staff files before finding one still glossy from recent creation.  
She had been changing, and yet now seemed to have reverted back to her original stonewalling of all things related to heroism and quirk use.

 _Hannei Tsutomi_

He put the name into the database, anticipation churning his stomach, just as the entry door swung open.  
All Might, reverted into his skeletal form, looked at Aizawa in surprise. The enigma hero's stomach began to thrash for new reasons.

"What are you doing here?"  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
All Might nodded, not inquiring further. Aizawa didn't lower his stare.  
"You need to tell her, All Might."  
"P-Pardon?"

Aizawa sighed, feeling in desperate need of a nap. This had nothing to do with his feelings towards her and all to do with what was bound to happen. "The entire faculty is aware of your true form; you have a _student_ even aware. Chiyo Tsutomi is going to find out one way or another. Wouldn't you rather it be from you than someone's accidental slip-up?"

"Are you insinuating you're going to tell her?"  
For once, the beacon of hope wasn't smiling. Aizawa looked away, indignant.  
"It's not my place to do so," He set his eyes back on All Might. "But it's _going_ to happen."  
Toshinori released a long breath and Aizawa was struck by just how tired he seemed. They had never been particularly close, but in this moment, he felt sympathy for the man.  
It was hard, though, when the very same man acted as the road block to the woman who kept laughing in his daydreams and tripping up his thoughts.

"Were you two…?"  
"What?" Aizawa's voice cut sharper than he intended. Toshinori scratched his head, suddenly embarrassed.  
"You two seemed close, before. I hope I didn't invade on anything-"  
"Chiyo's a grown woman. She's capable of making her own choices."  
"Right, I just meant- if you two were-"  
"We didn't go on ice cream dates or any of the gooey shit you two have been up to, if that's what you mean."  
All Might blushed a deep shade reminiscent of the woman in question. Aizawa looked away.  
"It's been kind of a slow process."

"Just man up and kiss her, Christ," Aizawa muttered under his breath, attention back on the computer. Toshinori loudly stammered something in response. Aizawa couldn't hear anything outside of the blood suddenly rushing through his head.

 _Hannei Tsutomi: No data found._

* * *

Thank you SO much for the wonderful feedback! I grin like a complete idiot with every review. I couldn't contain a little outburst; I promise to keep the next few chapters clean of my comments, as things are about to get...Well, you'll see.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

This wasn't how I expected my date with Toshinori Yagi to go.

Surrounded by loud laughter, beer sticky on every surface, and the spindly back of my date walking away.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

* * *

With the news of a student field trip into the Great Unknown, my nerves were dancing witches at a demon summoning. Yes, there would be trained professionals- including the most powerful, supreme piece of ass in existence, All Might- and sure, it was just simulatory to better train our budding heroic students, but this was all still foreign land to me.

The last time I was involved in a _simulation_ , Aizawa had to save my sorry self and I spent the night in his hotel room, conflicted in more ways than one.  
He'd promised there was no danger; I made him promise not to save me, trying to share in the joke that still had me uneasy. There were students involved- what if something happened? _What if I couldn't help them, keep them safe?_

' _It's not your job to keep them safe. You go, you teach, you keep_ yourself _safe, you understand?'_

I rolled my neck, trying to release the aggravating tension and Mom's voice at the same time.  
My unsmiling mother had been a bottle of quiet rage when I'd returned home, steam rising from her as much as the chicken congee she'd made for dinner. Slowly but surely she'd pulled every last detail from my heartstrings, silent and fearful the entire telling. It'd taken every vow in me, promised adherence to every condition, just to stop her from guilting me into quitting UA.  
I didn't mention the regulation or submersions. For now it was still my dark little secret, shared only with Shota Aizawa.

- _Feeling ill over tomorrow's field trip (are you going btw?) Mind if we partake in some recreational drinking downtown? I promise not to make you sing karaoke._

 _-I'll pick you up at 7?_

 _-Great, see you then!_

My classes were all but cancelled for the field trip and we wouldn't leave until later in the morning. With my quick negating of alcohol retention I wouldn't suffer any major repercussions to a little drinking, anyway.  
The doorbell rang on the nose of seven o'clock and Nasu released a pitiful yeowl, glowing eyes casting violent judgment in my direction. Toshi couldn't even get past the front door with Nasu around, the vindictive little shit. I'd apologized profusely, commenting on how he was hateful towards everyone.

Well _,_ not _everyone._

"Hey!"  
"Good evening! Ready?" His smiling face poked out like a dandelion from a too-large shirt. It was probably hard finding clothing to fit his towering, lanky figure, I realized.  
"Yeah, just let me-" Words fell flat as Toshinori reached in, turned the lock of the door, and promptly closed it. I grinned. "Well, never mind then."

Twilight crisped the air. Toshinori filled the void with endless chatter and questions, asking my input on technology preferences in the classroom and how I was enjoying teaching every section of the students, rather than just the hero course kids. I answered as best I could, given my out of breath state; for every one step he took I needed three, just to keep up.

"You didn't answer before! Are you going on the field trip tomorrow, with Class 1-A?" I fought to keep the pant out of my voice. We had arrived in a vein of downtown, people walking with shopping bags, children enjoying the last few minutes of sunlight with a basketball game across the street. The buildings were mostly brick with personal, hand-painted signs differentiating bistros from breweries. Toshinori stopped walking and I took the opportunity to catch my breath.

Actually," He said with a rub at his neck. I straightened; I'd learned this tell. Whatever he was about to say would come with a grain of embarrassment on his part. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."  
My forehead wrinkled with my brows, curious. He let out an awkward laugh.  
"Maybe we should grab a drink first? I don't know how this is going to exactly play out."

He had moved towards a bar- coincidentally, the bar Kayama had dragged me to all those weeks ago- before I caught his arm, solid as concrete. "Can you just tell me now? You're freaking me out a little, Toshi,"  
"I...It'd be best if we weren't out in the open like this first," He answered in a hushed tone.

Are you... _breaking up with me?_ " My voice rose with forged hysterics. I staggered back for effect, letting my eyes grow larger than the moon. Instantly Toshinori bloomed in color.

"NO! _What?_ You- me- Are _we?_ I just, there's something I need to discuss- _Nothing of that nature-_ Do you mean, are we-?"

"Toshinori," I interrupted, standing on tiptoe to smother his babbling mouth with both hands. Blood was starting to dribble between the squares of his teeth. _Did...He not even realize what we were?_ "Toshi, you've gotta calm down, I was just teasing."

" _AH HA HA, BUT OF COURSE-"_ I pressed my hands against his lips harder, pinching them closed with a face full of warning. People were starting to take notice of us. He blinked before a slow nod of understanding moved his unkempt hair. Only when his great body stopped shaking with jitters did I remove myself, taking a cautionary step back.

There was no way this man was ready for the next step of my plan.

"Come on," I sighed, leading him by the hand into the dim ambiance of the establishment. Halfway to a table I felt his fingers curl around mine.  
His blonde head bobbled, retrieving our drinks from the bar, before at last sitting across from me. The joviality of before had dissipated. I drew my face as serious as his, folding my arms on the table.

"Chiyo-"  
"Toshinori."  
The dancing light didn't catch in his eyes. I sobered up. "What is it?"  
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I've struggled with how, exactly." I fought back the urge to make another joke. _You really_ are _in love with All Might, Toshi? Man, it's all coming together._ "I...still don't know how."  
"Well, what's it concerning?"

He looked at his cup, lost in his thoughts. I was fairly certain there wasn't an ounce of liquor in that fizzling cup of amber, just soda. At last he looked up at me. My left calf gave a nervous jolt at his somber expression.

"What is it about All Might that makes you look up to him?"  
 _Well this is out of left field.  
_ "Oh," Came my articulate answer. I sat back, pensive. "Outside of his manly good looks, you mean?"  
"Yes."  
 _No mood for joking at all, I see._

Could I pinpoint what it was that drew me- drew anyone- to All Might? Because he was the most powerful, certainly. Even Mom seemed to breathe a little easier during Hero and Villain segments on the news when he was on the television. But what was the real draw for _me?_

"...As a little kid, I was always so timid. When I started kindergarten I was literally afraid of my own shadow, in case I developed some sort of darkness quirk. I didn't really have any friends, I kept to myself so much. It was around the time I entered middle school when All Might started gaining a lot of notoriety," I spun the straw in my glass absently, the swirling mixture matching my thoughts.

"My...I didn't know my father, but I have this feeling that he was killed, somehow. I don't have any concrete details or evidence, but my mom has always been so protective of me and would go out of her way to keep me away from quirks that I...They must be connected. Even as a kid, I realized this.  
"So imagine frightened kid-Chiyo, scared of absolutely everything, seeing this brilliant, smiling hero who promised he'd always save the day. It made me...I don't know," It was my turn to rub my neck, bashful. "It gave me-"

"Something to believe in." Toshinori finished quietly. I nodded, surprised.

"It's silly, but I didn't feel so scared after that. But then the Manami thing happened, and I basically molded myself into a permanent state of doom and gloom, so here we are," I laughed, feeling awkward at how dark this night was turning out.  
"Did you tell all this to Aizawa, too?"  
An ice cube splintered in my glass, shining like a dozen sharp diamonds.  
"Excuse me?"  
"After I told Aizawa about- When I told him to be watchful at the seminar, I wondered if he brought it up, and what that conversation led to. Which I'm sorry for, again," He added quickly. I waved off his apology.  
"We didn't discuss it much. He asked what happened to Manami, but I don't really know. That was the end of the conversation for the most part," Though I had been curious after. "Turns out Manami wasn't expelled, or anything of the like. She graduated at the top of her class. In fact, she doesn't live too far from here. It's a wonder I've never run into her."  
"For your sake, I hope you don't."

The comment was so casual, earnest, but strangely stung all the same. I nodded again.

"Anyway. You said you had something to tell me?" I waggled my eyebrows. Toshinori nodded, looking strikingly determined now. His lips parted with an answer and then his entire head was abruptly enveloped by the soft flesh of Nemuri Kayama's chest.

"Christ," A familiar voice muttered. I glanced up in time to catch Shota Aizawa hurrying for the door just before a cockatiel head caught him around the shoulders.

"I don't think so man, you _promised_ to come out with us-"

"Love of my life; the essence of my fragile, throbbing heart-" Kayama crooned, moving from Toshinori towards my vulnerable neck, arms outstretched lovingly. I ducked, quick as lightning, and staggered over to her comrades for cover.

"Nothing about you is _fragile._ " I hissed behind Aizawa's arm. He glanced back at me and I swear that dimple twitched.

"Toshinori, you monstrous bastard, are you trying to put the moves on my young protégé? So young, so sweet, so wholly untouched-"

"If you can't control yourself, Kayama, I'll lock you back in the car." Aizawa cut in dryly. The once-again scandalously dressed woman mimed locking her lips, dropping the invisible key down the front of her dress. I wondered, vaguely, who would be fishing that key out later.

"What are you guys up to? I wouldn't expect so many of us to be out drinking on a weeknight," I said. Yamada had disappeared to grab drinks and Toshinori pulled a few extra chairs to our table before everyone sat, some more obviously comfortable than others.

"It's still early. We won't stay out late," Aizawa said. Kayama nodded in agreement.

"Yamada djs here on Thursday nights and we, on occasion, will come to root our curassow on."

I laughed. "You're cura- _what?"  
_  
"Look it up," Aizawa commented into the bottle Yamada suddenly placed in his hand. I would have to as soon as I got home.

The conversations were easy, relaxing. Yamada and Kayama took turns leading the discussions, Toshinori and I adding comments and jokes along the way. Aizawa, ever himself, spent more time nursing his bottle than engaging with us. I tapped his foot with my own under the table amidst landing a slam on Yamada's shades-indoors look. The gentle pressure of his shoe pressed back against mine, face a passive mask. I blamed the spike in my heart rate on the liquor.

Before long Yamada was swaggering up to the stage, sliding into his Present Mic persona like a well-worn glove. " _How's everyone doing tonight?"_

Within seconds everyone was on their feet, dancing like there was no tomorrow. Kayama grabbed my arm and in turn I took Toshinori's, dragging him along for the ride. Aizawa observed, long legs crossed at the ankle and sipping his drink, from the forlorn corner table the rest of us abandoned.

It shouldn't have been so surprising that Yamada would be a great dj; each song flowed seamlessly into the next. Before long sweat pooled between my shoulder blades but the worry over the field trip began to wear off- my goal of the night, achieved. Mic eased in a slower ballad and everyone seemed to take a breath. My blonde sunflower of a date watched me shyly. I grinned, holding out a chivalrous hand to him.

"May I have this dance?"  
"I think that's my line."  
His hand was clammy as we swayed, my neck nearly breaking in half just to see his face.

"You didn't get around to telling me whatever it was you wanted to tell me," I said pointedly. A sudden pain struck my toes; Toshi had misstepped, thrown off by my comment. With a little pressure against his shoulder I righted him, trying not to smirk. "I guess it has something to do with All Might?"  
"You could say that," His arm tightened around my shoulders, just a fraction. "What if- Chiyo, what if he isn't as perfect as society thinks?"

"What?" I laughed, but once again there was no humor in Toshinori's eyes. I shook my head in confusion. Today was a hair-wash night, so it hung loose and a little more wild than usual, curling beneath my shoulders. With the move of my head I noticed how tendrils were caught by his long arm. I pulled, just slightly, to free them. "I don't understand."

"I mean, what if All Might isn't as powerful as he once was? What if that power was fading?"  
"Did he...Tell you that?"  
A frustrated breath heated the top of my head.  
"Chiyo, what I'm trying to tell you is-"

"Time fades all things," I cut in gently. This time when he staggered, I knew where to place my feet. "All Might can't always be the beacon of hope and power he is right now, and that's to be expected. It's important for you to be there for him, when the time comes," I squeezed his arm for emphasis. "You are the kindest, most earnest human being probably on this planet; if I were in need of a friend, you are the first person's door I'd be knocking on."

My voice rang out as if on a phonograph, captured by my own ears.  
It was, quite suddenly, very clear what Toshinori was to me.

I froze up, fearful he recognized the message behind my words as well, but he was in a different galaxy, staring off into space. "Toshinori?"  
"Hm?"  
 _Would he argue? Pull me closer, prove a point?_

All these days, the shyness, the dates.

 _Show me- this is your chance._

"Thanks, Chiyo. I think I'll know just what to say to him when the time comes." He beamed down at me and a murder of crows squawked noisily in my conscience, laughing.  
"...Great, yeah. Glad I could help."

Kayama was suddenly upon us, grinding against my hips just as the music took a dramatic turn. I turned and snatched the drink out of her hand, taking a hard pull before gasping.

" _Who the hell drinks straight tequila?"_

The nighttime enigma laughed maniacally, bouncing in time with whatever eighties music Yamada had stumbled upon. It was, actually, extremely catchy. I looked to Toshinori and shrugged, sheepish, shoulders continuing to bounce as I fell in tempo with the crazed Midnight.

* * *

Shota Aizawa had been in a funk ever since Chiyo Tsutomi arrived on the scene, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why.

Or, in this case, to be figured out by two pro heroes with way too much time on their hands.

He was always the quietest, moodiest one of their little trio, never showing more interest than a general head nod or grunt for an answer, eyes half-lidded and always on the verge of falling asleep.

When he watched _her_ , though, his attention never even wavered.

Word in the halls was their little Chi-Chan was a deer caught between the safety of a known meadow and the Great Wide Open, with Shota Aizawa amidst the latter.

Yamada argued on the side of his best friend- the man who never seemed to ask for anything, who throughout the years had as many girlfriends as Yamada had thumbs.

Kayama was devoted to Team All Might, pointing out his _complete_ lack of a love life and selflessness, who seemed to find it _valiant_ Toshinori wanted to shield Chiyo from the truth.

Hard pass, in Yamada's opinion.

They had agreed not to interfere. This was a potential love triangle between their friends; it wasn't their place to meddle.

But where was the fun in that?

" _Alright heroes and villains, it's time to mix it up. Find a partner to swoon with, but- a catch! Not the one you came with tonight!"_

The sprightly, shaded DJ ducked from the sudden glare he knew was aimed at him, generally avoiding the entire right corner where his best friend glowered from. Kayama, too, was trying to peel his skin off with her eyes. Stealth and slyness had never been his style; both adults knew exactly what he was up to. With a sour face Kayama finally, reluctantly, grabbed All Might by the hand and dragged him off.

Which left Chiyo Tsutomi, vulnerable in the midst of a parting crowd, alone.

Yamada counted under his breath as the song began, hopeful. The ballad was one he'd caught the lazed Eraser bobbing his head to once, just for extra effect.  
Tentatively, two yellowed eyes raised to peer at the right-corner table, only to find it vacated.

He might find his goose cooked come tomorrow, but the muted blush on Chiyo Tsutomi's nose, slowly bleeding into Shota Aizawa's neck, was beyond worth it.

 _Team Eraser: I_

 _Team All Might: 0_

* * *

He was standing in front of me, fitted in a simple shirt and jeans. I suddenly felt mildly overdressed.

Because Toshinori towered over the general populous, his arms proved too long to dance normally; instead it had fallen over my elbow to graze my back. Aizawa, while also tall, was a more moderate height for my heeled stature. His hand slid between the crook of my arm and the curve of my waist, fingers gently brushing the small of my back. Instinctively I moved closer, placing a hand on his bicep.

"You pulled your hair up," I noticed. There was that flickering dimple again, his hand readjusting in mine.  
"You certainly pay a lot of attention to my style, Tsutomi."  
"It's a fun pastime, seeing the various ways you can make yourself look disheveled."  
"Mm." Was all the response I received. My head fell back, taking in the music.  
"Yamada's actually really good. I love this song."  
"Really?"  
"Why do you sound so surprised? Do I look like someone with poor music tastes?"  
"Nursery rhymes seem more your speed, yeah."

I gave his arm a pinch and he grunted in pain, ever the baby.

"I hope we didn't interrupt anything. You seemed to be in the middle of a pretty serious conversation with Toshinori."

I didn't answer right away- partly because I didn't know how. The entire ordeal had left a strange taste in my mouth, marched ants down my veins. What point had Toshinori been trying to make? Something told me that- whatever it was- he hadn't actually spoken it. _Is All Might sick? I thought I felt something twisted in his blood, but I was also half-drunk_ -

The cool touch of Shota Aizawa's mouth against my temple brought a rush of blood in my chest, lower belly ballooning with an ache I couldn't quite place.

"You're doing it again," He commented. I startled and he chuckled, soft against my face. He pulled away just enough to search my eyes with the tint of mirth. We continued to sway in perfect unison, body language mirrored.  
"Where do you go, when you disappear like that?"  
"Down the rabbit hole with Alice, I guess."  
Aizawa nodded seriously. "Do you find a lot down there?"  
"Just you," I spoke in an honest murmur. "You and all those questions."

If this were a school dance, a matron would have certainly demanded room for the holy spirit between us by now. I could practically taste his breath, he was so close.

His jaw fidgeted, as if running through several responses, the bristles of the shadow he so lazily neglected catching the light. "Questions like what?"

"Like no matter where I go, the thought of you seems to follow. And just when I ask myself why- _why_ do you keep rising to the surface, and tell myself to just let it go, there you are," His body stilled against mine and I followed suit, not breaking eye contact even as my nerves demanded it. "Why are you here, Shota? Why are you here, of all places, dancing with me?"

His mouth opened, a silent answer beginning to form between his teeth.  
It was then I noticed how quiet it had truly become. _When had the music stopped?_ I couldn't look away from his face. Not yet.  
A movement caught his attention. He suddenly pulled out of our dancing embrace, taking all my courage with him.

"Your date is leaving," Aizawa said, looking away. I blinked, stupid, and he sighed, gesturing behind me. "Toshinori is leaving. If you hurry, you can catch him."

Was he dismissing me? I looked between the two, heart pounding an indecisive beat.

"Why are you here, Shota?"

This wasn't how I expected my date with Toshinori Yagi to go down.

Surrounded by loud laughter, beer sticky on every surface, and the spindly back of my date walking away.

And here I was, staring at a man who was _not_ my date, waiting on a tightrope for him to give me an answer.

"I just came to blow off some steam," Came his quiet response. My stare was relentless, forcing him to continue, "I came with my friends, and you happened to be here, too. It...Doesn't have to mean anything more than that."

I didn't believe him.

I didn't believe that bullshit answer for a second.

I could reach into him, feel his heart to tell if he was lying.

"If you say so," I said instead, body turning on its own accord. As mechanical as a robot I walked away and then out the door.

I didn't follow the frizzy ball of yellow moving down the sidewalk lit with tiki torches and firefly lights.

Instead I turned left and walked home, alone with nothing but my hornet's nest of thoughts for company.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

"This will be no different than training at school; the Unforeseen Simulation Joint is an extension of UA and under strict safety protocols," Aizawa explained, miraculously unwavering on the school bus he, I, and the twenty students of class 1-A were using for transport. With only one face-forward chaperone seat in the front I was snug against Eraserface, grabbing onto his belt every time the bus hit a pothole. He glanced down at me, amused. _He doesn't need you to steady him, Chiyo. He's a professional hero, remember?_

"There are six main zones- each with different climates, situations, and terrain. We'll separate you accordingly once we arrive."  
He slid back down with a heaving sigh, hair tangling around him like a distorted crown. I at last let go of his belt and he cracked an eye in my direction.

"Drink too much last night?"  
He didn't dignify my chipperness with an answer.

I had meandered home at a snail's pace, thoughtfully observing two parts of my brain fight one another.  
There was the rational, safe portion, demanding I let go of any notions of attraction to Shota Aizawa and his pressing ways and focus instead on Toshi, whose text I hadn't noticed until I'd left the bar myself;

 _I think Kayama slipped something in my drink. I've got to get home- So sorry! : - (_

I couldn't say I was surprised- that woman was one disciple away from starting a cult.  
At least he hadn't left for other reasons- namely, me wrapped up in the arms of someone clearly _not_ my date, pressed so close he'd surely felt my drumming nerves straight through my skin. What if he _had_ seen? Sweet, kind Toshinori, who blushed at even the most tame of teases.

Dark eyes were suddenly watching me, like a hidden animal in the brush between his mess of hair and tapered scarf, beholding my thought process. I reached out, annoyed, and pressed two fingers against the inside of his left wrist.  
"God, yes," He moaned, body turning liquid. His eyes fluttered out of sight and I returned to my thoughts in forced peace.

The other part of my brain- one I had only seemingly discovered recently- raged against the safe logic of Toshinori and pointed instead to the unknown of Shota Aizawa, and how I might _grow_ \- not just as a significant other, but more than that. As a person. Less afraid of the world, and quirks. _Less afraid of myself_.  
The man who wasn't into damsels, who expected me to save myself.  
The one whose face seemed to even follow me into bed, smiling coyly in my dreams and pointing out every freckle on my skin.

"Whatever you're thinking about, knock it off," The man in question suddenly grumbled beside me. "You're increasing my heart rate, too."  
"Maybe you're just secretly in love with me, and the fact that we're so close is affecting your senses." I clapped back without thinking. The tempo of his pulse raised just a fraction and I looked over, surprised. Aizawa looked out the window, still too sluggish from submersion to do much else.  
"Don't read into that- we're here." Came his paltry answer. A smirk licked my lips but I fought it down, starting to pull away. His other hand, quick as lightning, pressed it back against his.  
"One more minute," He said, eyes fighting the sun. "I can already tell this day is going to be exhausting."

A great, silver dome was on the horizon- the USJ. My nerves momentarily fluttered. Was this...excitement I felt?  
"I had...Something to tell you," Aizawa mumbled. He let out a sigh. "Don't let me...Forget."  
"If it's important, it'd be best to tell me now, before-"  
"Classmates! Line yourselves in an orderly fashion- Mineta, your place is _not_ between Yaoyarozu and Uraraka-"

How had I forgotten about the twenty kids also accompanying us?

"Everyone," I called out, rising from my seat. Aizawa stirred but fell back as I placed two fingers against his temple, reverting him to butter once again. "I expect your behavior to reflect the high standards of our school. Think of this simply as an extension of our classrooms- the rules still apply," A pointed look sent a shiver through Mineta's bauble-headed body. "I am very excited to see your quirks at work- this is a first for me! But safety should always be at the front and foremost in your mind."

"She's right," Aizawa had lazed himself out of his stupor and watched the students with seriousness.

"Let's go."

The students filed out, fissuring with excitement. A nervous smile was distorting my face and I didn't know what to do with my hands, wiping them on the stretchy black material of my pants. After harrassing Toshinori with ideas for what to wear I'd gone with simple athletic wear, a light grey, sleeveless tank shirt covering a boob-flattening sports bra and my hair pin straight in a high ponytail. No one had ridiculed me, so I guess it was good enough.

I tripped on the bus stairs and would've eaten shit if a slender hand hadn't caught me, attached to a quietly amused Shota Aizawa.  
"Relax," He murmured, pulling me upright. His eyes glowed with laughter. "You've got this."

Before I could respond, a person in a spacesuit- _Thirteen_ , as I recalled from the meeting- walked out of the domed building with extended arms. "Welcome!"

* * *

The arena was split into six realms, each as different as the next. A center plaza was graced by a glimmering fountain- odd, in the midst of all the debris-filled zones- but beautiful all the same, tying the building together.

"I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters," Thirteen explained, gesturing around the awe-striking arena. Aizawa was glancing around, not taking in the scenery.

"Where's All Might? Shouldn't he be here by now?"  
He was right- the mountain of muscle was nowhere to be seen. Aizawa left my side and Thirteen spoke to him quietly, holding three fingers up. _What's that mean?_ It's not like I could try and read Thirteen's lips, seeing they were hidden under that reflective dome. _He'll be here in thirty minutes?_

"Will you be joining us in the shipwreck zone, Ms. Tsutomi?" Tsu asked. Her tongue peeked from the side of her lips. I refrained from poking it.  
"I'm not sure where they'll want me; it'd make sense for me to be there," I lifted a hand, feeling the blood beneath the skin. "Even if I don't _use-_ use my quirk, I could identify where you and the others were in the water, in case anything goes wrong."  
"Really?" Iida asked. Curious eyes were watching me, like an exotic animal emerging from its cave. I felt that nervous smile ticking just as much as the warning bell in my cranium.  
"Yeah, I can- I feel the blood in your body."  
"Damn! Could you control it?" Mineta asked, interest piqued. My own blood began rushing up my neck.  
"I could _manage_ it, but I don't use my quirk. You're the next generation of heroes, right?" I waved them off with a well-placed grin. "Let's get you trained so I won't ever have to!"

Something rippled through the air.  
 _The reaper just walked across your grave_ , Mom had said once at such a feeling.

I glanced around quickly; superstition or not, something was wrong. My stomach lurched at the abrupt change in humidity. Every hair on my body suddenly stood on end, intuition sensing a disturbance my conscious hadn't caught yet. Without thinking I moved in front of the students, turning my attention to Aizawa and Thirteen. "Mr. Aizawa-"

The fountain was blurring. A swirling miasma, tinted the color of an old bruise, was swallowing the water.

And then it appeared.

' _Your power isn't a gift; quirks are not gifts, they're instruments of death.'_

The violent eyes.

Hair like foamed waves, sucking the earth from beneath me.

The drowned face of my nightmares.

It was his.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

"Stay together and don't move! Thirteen! Protect the students!"

My heart swelled in my throat, legs gelatin.

' _I'll find you- I'll_ _ **hurt**_ _you-'_

" _Chiyo!"_

Shota Aizawa's voice shattered through the barrier, louder than a roar. I surfaced back into reality, gasping for air. A pair of goggles- the ones he kept tucked in his scarf and never let me touch- were in his hand, halfway to his face, hair electrified and face more serious than I'd ever seen. I blinked like a frightened deer and his face hardened, the severe force of his attention centered on me.

" _Protect our students._ "

"Wait," I breathed, reaching out as he flew down the stairs into the crossfire. "I can't- Don't- Don't leave me," _What can_ I _do?_ I was _nothing_ ; a casualty waiting to happen. I shouldn't even _be_ here.

The nightmare was covered in deadened hands, but I could _feel_ him; that crisp, pale skin, the red, murderous eyes. He stood, unaware of his effect, and I in turn remained cemented to the ground. _Who_ is _he?  
_ The hallucinations that sprang from my quirk and darkened every corner of my mind- all this time, it had been _his_ face, _his_ hands sinking my body. _But why?_ I'd never seen him in my _life_ , not in my waking hours. _What_ is _he?_

"Ms. Tsutomi! Stay behind us!"  
The voice snapped me back, body thrown into motion.  
Katsuki Bakugo had grabbed me, pulled me behind him.  
Other students- Kirishima, Midoriya, Tsuyu- had moved, creating a wall between myself and the chaos below.

 _Protect our students._

But they were surrounding _me._ My students, these _children_ , springing to action when all I could do was tremble.  
"Thirteen, why aren't the alarms going off?" Yaoyorozu moved closer to my right side, surveying the premises.  
"I'm not sure."  
"If the alarm systems aren't going off, then one of the villains must have a quirk that's masking their presence here," Todoroki thought aloud. Grape baubles jumped with Mineta's sudden idea.  
"Ms. Tsutomi! Could you use your quirk to find them?"  
Cotton had filled my mouth. Before I could try to work through the sudden dryness, Midoriya cut in; "Ms. Tsutomi doesn't use her quirk; even if she did, after so long without use, she wouldn't be able to discern the user from the others. I don't think her quirk even _works_ like that,"  
His voice was a muttered bubble, the hand covering his mouth smothering every other word. "What are we going to do? Mr. Aizawa can't fight them all on his own; he can't nullify all their quirks. His fighting style isn't suited for this, his power works best with stealth and one-on-one fights; that's not going to help him here-"

A numbing pain was freezing its way through my nervous system, taking all the power I had with it, until Midoriya's words finally resonated like a stone into a motionless pool- _He can't defeat them all on his own._

"You can't be a pro hero if you only have one trick," Thirteen interjected. A thunderous clap drew our attention below. As elegant as a dancer Aizawa flew through the air, ensnaring two villains with his wraps before cratering them to earth.

"We- we have to get help," My voice was barely a whisper. I turned to Thirteen. "We have to get the students out of here- the pros at UA-"

"You're right!" The space suit startled, pointing towards the entrance. Pushing through the dead weight of my body I moved, grabbing the shirtsleeves of the closest students and leading them away. _We have to get out of here, now._ I couldn't even glance back; the fear of what I might see nearly burst the veins out of my skin.  
 _We have to get him help._

"Wow, he's really holding his own. I guess I shouldn't have underestimated him," Midoriya paused to observe the successful take-downs below, face drawn into that thoughtful daydreaming only Izuku Midoriya could elicit in the middle of such pandemonium. I caught the back of his collar and pulled, _hard_.

He'd _promised_ there would be no real danger; to myself _or_ the students. My legs gave a jolt and I hurried my pace.  
"We have to get out of here. We'll only be in Aizawa's away. The best course of action is-"

" _It's a pleasure to meet you. We are the League of Villains,"_

A shiver cut me to the bone.  
The miasma of before appeared now, before us, bizarrely formal in language. _It's a person- a villain_. I reached out and my brain screamed back, blocking my ability to find him. _Now is not the time. Fight it, Chiyo. Fight back.  
_ The deep timbre of his voice bounced off the walls, but I couldn't locate where _he_ was in the mess of mist and fog. _He has to have blood, a body. But where?_

" _-_ And besides, isn't this a fitting place for All Might, the symbol of peace, to take his last breath?"

 _They're after...All Might?_

"I believe he was supposed to be here today. There must have been some sort of change in plans. In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter-"  
An explosion disrupted the monologue, sending sparks and thick smoke through the area. I tried to shout only to find my voice ripped from my body by the nerves and pain arching its way through my skull. _Pull it together. Focus. You can't break down now, here._ I caught Midoriya's arm, just as he tried to bolt forward.

"Did you think we were just going to stand around and let you tear this place to shreds?"

 _Kirishima, Bakugo, you idiots._

"You two, get out of the way right now!" Thirteen shouted. _Was he even human?_ The mist spread itself thin, permeating the area, growing in size. Still I could find no flesh or bone, nothing to submerse into.

"You should be careful, children. Otherwise, someone might get hurt."  
It was coming.  
Every vertebrae screamed in defiance, weak in the snare of Aizawa's last words to me.

 _Protect our students._

The darkness poured from the villain as I lunged, taking hold of Uraraka and flinging her with all my might. In seconds she disappeared; the thick mist had enveloped my whole.  
"I'm afraid we haven't been acquainted," A deep voice caressed the shell of my ear. "We'll see what Tomura Shigaraki knows of you."  
It felt like my skin was fading. Every atom separated and spliced back together. His self-created wind whipped my hair and obscured my view. I reached out only to find feelingless mist in every flailing direction. _Where is he?  
_ As quickly as the sensation began it ended. Gravity embraced my limbs with sudden urgency, pulling me towards the edge of the central fountain. I had enough time to pivot, crash into the water rather than staining the concrete.

The world suddenly went quiet.  
The screaming, the pain ripping through my skull.  
Submersed in the water, my senses awakened, every drop of blood suddenly alive, soothing my heart rate with a slow hand.

But the memory of my students, of Shota fighting a horde, dropped like a match into a lake of gasoline. I sprung from the water, coughing and frantic, rolling over the lip of stone. Hard ground kissed my face and I let out a cry, bracing myself with the palms of my hands.  
 _He's a teleporter. Not just himself, but others, too. He's their entryway into this place._

I sat up. The whispered screams began again with force.  
 _Run, run, run_.  
Was it my voice or the years of Mom's warnings, all merging into one uniform barrage?

Sneakers, red as a fire engine, appeared before me.  
The strings were a dingy white and double-knotted, as if tied by a worried parent afraid of him tripping.

"Well, well. Who do we have here?"

* * *

She was a quaking, dripping mess, hair shimmering in the sunlight pooling through the glass dome. When she fell from the sky into the fountain, whatever make-up adorning her face had bled, streaming like tears from the corners of her large, frightened eyes. The multi-handed villain knelt before her frozen figure like a reaper seeking easy prey.

A fist raced towards Eraserhead's face. He dodged, just in the knick of time, and sent a binding cloth towards her. With a yank she disappeared from the villain's sight. Aizawa braced himself for impact.

" _Tsutomi_."  
She was in shock; it was written all over her face.  
But there was no time for hesitation.  
"Stay behind me," He commanded, heart leaping to his throat. _This is bad. This is really, really bad._

Of all the times for All Might to overexert himself like some overzealous show-off, why _now?_ Why _today_ , of all fucking days?

"Aizawa, I can't- I-"

Her entire body was a sapling caught in a hurricane. He could hear the quick, frantic breaths escaping her; a tell of a quickly-arising panic attack. An assailant approached; he twisted to the left, eyes flashing, and rammed a fist into the man's jugular. Wild laughter caught his attention as Aizawa landed on the chest of another thug, throwing a glance in the direction it was cast from.

"What _is_ this? Giving a tour to a quirkless fan?" The white-haired leader snickered. Chiyo's spine jerked as she took a defensive step back at the sudden attention. A group of attackers raced towards her and without hesitation Aizawa shot forth, narrowly catching a blade before it split her skull clean open.

Chiyo watched the violence unfold like an ember building into an uncontrollable inferno around her, helpless within the flames.

"You've miscalculated, Eraserhead,"  
His breath was haggard; three down, one to go.  
"If she was supposed to be your back-up, I'm afraid it's game _over_."  
Red shoes were racing in her direction, faster than she would ever be able to react to.  
"Final boss," Aizawa muttered to himself, using his capturing weapon to divert the skinny villain's path. _She's safe, this is over._

A pale hand caught the binding, racing toward him still. Aizawa didn't slow his pace; the connection could be used to his advantage. The instant he pulled the binding the leader's arm flew up, giving access to his abdomen. A gasp was just audible behind them when he crumpled, breath stolen from Aizawa's hit. _It's over._

"It was hard to see when you were jumping around, but I found your tell: it's your hair,"  
A pain unlike any he'd experienced melted into his elbow, fracturing the tendons of muscle underneath. _What hell is this?  
_ "When it drops, it means you've stopped using your quirk."  
The skin was decaying, rotting to dust and breaking off his body.  
"Don't push yourself too hard now, you might just fall apart. Wouldn't that be a shame?" The boy's voice was like curdling milk, rising around the hand pressed to his face. Shigaraki tightened his grip and red muscle began to turn to ash, just as a flash of dark hair entered their periphery.

" _Let go of him!"_

Crimson splattered the air, licked his lips as it burst from the veins of his assailant.  
Chiyo Tsutomi stood, eyes wild and limbs shaking, over the bleeding body of the villain ringleader.  
A laugh coughed out of the boy's mouth; he wasn't dead. _What did she do?_

"Eraser," Her voice fell out softly, as if she'd just run a marathon, face turning ashen at the figures slowly surrounding them. "The others- I can't-"

"On it."

He turned towards the remaining criminals, clenching the wraps around his neck.  
Chiyo Tsutomi wasn't a professional hero- he had already asked too much of her as it was.  
The least he could do was eliminate the rest of this trash and get her to safety.

His body was fluid. Diverting attacks, landing hits with precision- countless hours of training had honed him for this.

" _You really are so cool!"_

The leader had risen. Chiyo took a step back but faced him, back to the others. Before Aizawa could react a scaled villain leapt past him, targeting her slender frame.  
In slow motion she moved, unable to dodge the violent fist aimed at her chest. Her body flew back, head ricocheting against the stairs like a basketball before falling motionless.  
In one fell swoop he brought the animorph down. Aizawa watched, noted the light movement of her ribs. _Still breathing._

Fury swirled in his chest, ignited his senses.  
The red-shoed man raised his arms in a passive shrug.  
"Oh, by the way, hero? I am _not_ the final boss."

* * *

The earth was trembling.

It was distant, but I could feel it; the tremors running through the ground, stirring my mind.

 _Protect our students._

The screaming was deafening. Inflamed neurons were firing, adamant that I remain immobile.

 _Protect our students._

Every drop of blood turned to lead. Every sense shut down, forced by a will outside my own to be _still_ , remain froze _n,_ stay _alive_.

But I couldn't let him die.

The ground wavered again. I forced my eyes to open, blinking in the harsh light. A black figure, mountainous in stature, was perched atop a crumpled mass of broken limbs and blood.

"Get...away...from her."

 _No._

"He really is something else, isn't he?"  
The voice was like nails on a chalkboard, scratching grooves into my soft tissue. I struggled to my knees with a gasp. My lungs felt like they'd been decorated with ground glass.  
"But I already know who _he_ is," A figure eclipsed the bright sunlight, hair translucent in its rays.  
He scoured my face, gaze dark as death between lifeless fingers.

 _I know this face._

"So who are _you_?"  
My mouth proved incapable of sound. He studied me, eyes narrowing.

A lone finger, slow but purposeful, rose towards my face. Its fingernail scratched the leveled surface of the mole to the right of my mouth.

" _Who are you?"_

I should _run_ , beg for my life, _something_.  
But all I could think of was that pool of red liquid behind him, black sleeves soaked and skin frayed.

"Tomura Shigaraki," A voice broke the spell. The eyes of the decayer left mine, drawn by the warping quirk-user from before. Air ripped through my glass lungs as quickly as my thoughts. _We have to get out of here- I have to get to Shota- The others-  
_ "Kurogiri. Did you manage to kill Thirteen?"  
My heart sank; a stone for every student. _No.  
_ "The rescue hero is out of commission, but there were students I wasn't able to disperse. One got out of the facility."  
Tomura Shigaraki burst into a fit of scratching, distressed at this news.

It was then I saw them.  
Three pairs of eyes, wide in horror, from the lip of the artificial lake.

 _Protect our students._

 _He can't, won't notice them._

White pain blurred my vision; from the attack or hallucinations, I couldn't tell.  
 _I can't move.  
_  
' _You shouldn't move. You're not a hero. You're weak, and frail. You belong at home.'_

"Oh, before we leave, let's make sure the symbol of peace is broken. _Let's wreck his pride_."  
The red shoes moved with breakneck speed, hand encasing Tsu's face.

' _Leave the heroism to those foolish enough to risk their own lives for glory.'_

"You really are _so_ cool," Tomura Shigaraki cooed.  
Aizawa's red-eyed face, etched in pain and blood, had risen, nullifying Shigaraki's body.

In an instant the creature slammed his face into the ground with a sickening crunch.  
I felt the impact in every single rib, reverberated throughout every bone's marrow.  
Midoriya rose and the air shifted, blown by his might.  
But the creature had also moved, protecting its master.

"You're pretty powerful. That smash of yours- are you one of All Mights disciples? Doesn't matter- _I'm done with you now._ "

' _Don't look back, don't try to save anyone but yourself. Run, Chiyo._ _ **Run.**_ '

 _Protect our students._

The screaming, the white-hot pain.  
Shota's body, motionless and floating in a pool of liquid red.

It all melted away.

One colossal fist paused, suspended just inches from Midoriya's skin. Tomura Shigaraki stood just as immobile, trembling fingers centimeters from Tsu's emerald hair.

"Move."  
My voice cut through the vibrating air with quiet force. Three familiar sets of eyes looked at me, as if for the first time. Tsuyu jumped to life first. A pink tongue wrapped around Midoriya's waist and pulled him to safety seconds before the creature's hand slammed into the ground.

Every breath struggled through the narrowing passages. Darkness bordered my line of vision. The creature gave a wild jerk, testing my hold, and a scoff played out of Shigaraki's cracked lips.  
"Were you supposed to be the secret weapon?" He laughed. I raised a weary hand and his body went rigid, but my hold was weakening.

 _Protect our students._

The black creature was crawling towards me, movements sluggish in my hold. _His blood- how does it move? What's it made of? My reach is so limited_.  
"Nomu was built to take out the strongest hero in the world. Do you think you are anywhere near _his_ level?"

If I moved from position, tried to run, my control would be cut as easy as ribbon. A low, inhuman groan hissed out of the creature's mouth, fingers struggling to grab my leg.

"Miss...Tsutomi-"  
Why was he here? Why couldn't this kid just follow directions for _once_ in his life?

 _Protect our students._

I used every last ounce of strength to find Midoriya's face. "Run. _Run-"_

My ankle snapped like balsa wood, body giving easily from the immense strength of the beaked creature dragging me down. It raised a fist and I submersed myself into its fingers, softening the blow that still splintered my bones like dandelion fluff. Darkness crept further into my eyesight.  
 _I'm going to die._

The world was losing its soundtrack.  
The colors were ebbing away, like a canvas doused by rainfall.

They say your life flashes before your eyes, but all I could see was a broken fragment of metal- Shota's goggles. _He never let me try them on._

The earth gave a tremor again. A silhouette appeared on the horizon.

And then there was darkness.


End file.
